Echoes of Angels
by Sunrise-Rose1023
Summary: After the devastating turn of events that ended the Apocalypse, the Winchesters and the Halliwells must find a way to pick up the pieces and get on with their lives. The price they paid haunts them, things have drastically changed, and life will never be the same again. But there's something they don't know... Something that can change everything.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is! A new story, this takes place after "Last Chance," the final installment of my "Chances" series. If you haven't read that one yet, I suggest you do, so you'll understand what's happening here! As always, drop me a review and let me know your thoughts, questions, ideas, etc. I LOVE getting feedback, and can't wait to hear what you guys have to say about this story. Don't worry, guys. Things are not as cut-and-dry as they seem. ;) Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter One_

The smoking started three months after.

"After."

That's how he thinks of it now. His life, all their lives, split into "before" and "after."

Six months later, "after" still hurts.

He feels guilty about that sometimes. The way it hurts. He loved her, of course, and he misses her something awful. But it's not like she was his cousin and best friend. She wasn't his daughter. She wasn't his _wife_.

But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Back at the beginning, right after it happened, he and Peyton would switch off. He'd wake from a horrible nightmare, cold sweat soaking his trembling body, and she'd calm him down as best she could, holding him until his breathing had regulated again, drifting back to sleep in her arms. And the next night, if he was lucky, he'd manage to wake her up before she started to scream, and she'd cling to him until the terror had subsided.

And then, they'd found out their little world was growing.

It wouldn't be just the two of them anymore. There was a baby on the way. And as much as that flat-out petrified Sam, it somehow made everything easier. He couldn't explain it. Shouldn't the thought of a child send them into whole new realms of panic? Instead, the nightmares dwindled from one of them waking each night to only occurring a couple of times a week. Then maybe once a week, then once a month.

The nightmares still happen, but they're few and far between now. Six months later, that doesn't surprise any of them.

The smoking did.

It was jarring, walking out of the house to find him standing there, white t-shirt on, dark, ripped jeans on bowed legs, heavy booted foot propped up on the wall behind him, cigarette dangling from his lips. It fit. Come to think of it, a cigarette had seemed almost necessary to complete the badass, rebel-without-a-cause persona he'd always put forward.

It shocked Sam at first. It was like going back in time, only this time, the man at the end of that glowing cigarette wasn't the long, lean, dark-haired man that seemed to ooze danger and mystery from his pores. The lips around the butt of the cigarette weren't shadowed by a salt-and-pepper beard.

No, this time, the man was maybe an inch shorter, cocky as hell, carrying that same air of mystery he'd inherited from his father, cheeks shadowed by reddish-tinted facial hair that stumped the hell out of his brother.

Dean's hair had been blonde when he was little. Damn near white when he was a baby and toddler, darkening to a golden as he grew. His hair had steadily darkened as a child, before it lightened again when he was a teenager. But it never reached the rich, chestnut-brown shade of Sam's own hair. No, Dean's hair was an intriguing mixture—the perfect mixture, if Sam was being completely honest—of John's raven black and Mary's golden blonde.

However, Dean's hair was never, ever red. So why his beard was, Sam could never figure out.

The beard came just before the smoking did.

Sam had asked about it. Dean had been known to go a few days without shaving, using the scruff to add to his badass attitude. But he always gave in and shaved. Sam watched and waited until the full beard had appeared, then approached Dean as he was working in the garage. Dean had shrugged him off, diving under a car and going to work on a radiator leak. Sam had shrugged his own shoulders, going back to the house, grabbing his backpack and settling into the sunroom.

And hours later, Sam was yanked from the stillness he'd enveloped himself in when green eyes full of tears forced him up and into a sparring match. Sam didn't even try to fight back. He just took the blows, blocking the ones that would have made contact with his face, but enduring the ones to his chest and abdomen, until Leo and Chris had run in, managing to pull the Winchester boys apart.

She'd always liked the scruff, often teasing him and daring him into growing a full beard. He'd go a day or two, then complain that it was itchy, and she'd pout every time the razor appeared.

He still couldn't say her name.

When Dean had stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him, Sam took the little nugget of information and tucked it away in a lockbox in his heart, taking it out days later when he was by himself for a while and able to grieve the only way he'd found he was able.

All alone, hiding in the bathroom, folding his huge body as small as he could make it, crying until he couldn't see or breathe.

And every single time, Peyton would come and find him. She'd make herself as small as he felt he was, climbing into his lap, completely invading his personal space, not letting go until both of them could breathe easily without the threat of more tears.

But honestly … The smoking wasn't that big of a deal. Well, okay. It was, but no one made it out to be. Whose problem was it really if he wanted to destroy his lungs along with his liver? No one but his own.

Boy, did that thought sting.

* * *

Four months in, Sam caught him just before he wrecked the Impala.

He was going to. He had just enough liquor in him that it seemed like a good idea. He'd rebuilt her from the ground up once before. Doing it again would be a piece of cake. But Sam stole the keys from him, and got a punch in the jaw for his trouble. He saw stars for a good fifteen minutes, until a shot of something that tasted like straight gasoline made the ache dissipate.

Once the liquor was in Sam's system, dulling the pain in his jaw, he'd gone out to discover his brother had gone to the car anyway, hitting her with his fists, kicking her bumpers and the tires. And then, he collapsed. Just hit the ground right beside the driver's side door, and Sam walked over, kneeling down beside him. He'd grabbed onto Sam's jacket, pulling him closer, bleary, tear-filled eyes meeting Sam's.

"It hurts, Sam. All the fucking time, it just hurts so goddamned much."

What was he supposed to say? "I know"? "I'm sorry"? He deserves another punch just for thinking that. He ended up just laying a hand on his brother's arm, nodding his head. Dean gasped as tears poured down his face.

"I just … if I had something that looked as bad as I feel…"  
"It won't do any good, Dean."

Dean let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

"I can't do this, Sam. I—I can't. Not without—I need her, Sammy."  
"I know. I know, Dean."

Dean fell forward, head falling onto Sam's chest. Sam wrapped his arms around him, holding him close while Dean sobbed. Sam closed his eyes, hanging onto his brother until Dean finally let out a shuddering breath, tapping onto his brother's shoulder, their signal that he could breathe on his own again. Sam leaned back, keeping a hand on the back of Dean's neck.

"You know I'm here, right?"

Dean nodded, a small half-smile on his face. Sam sighed, speaking even softer.

"I don't know what to do here either, Dean. We just … we have to muddle through, the best way we know how."  
"Liquor and killing monsters."

Sam let out a laugh.

"If only there were monsters these days."

Dean gave him that little smile again, then let out a long, shaky breath.

"Don't let me turn into Dad, Sam."

Sam blinked, and Dean shook his head.

"I get it now. Why he was the way he was, why he did the things he did. This is … this is hell, Sam. And I've been there. This is a million times worse."

Sam let out a breath, going to shake his head, and Dean spoke again.

"Don't you let me become him. I can't … it's hard enough without imagining that, but I can't stop thinking about it. You gotta promise me, Sam."  
"Dean—"  
"Promise me you won't let it happen."

How in the hell was Sam supposed to promise that? Dean had always been damn near a carbon copy of their father. Hell, in some ways, Dean was more John than _John_ had been. Sam swallowed, meeting green eyes full of grief, boring into him.

"Okay, Dean."  
"I mean it, Sammy. Whatever it takes to keep me from being him, you gotta do it."  
"Dean—"  
"Please, Sam."

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, whispering softly.

"I promise."

* * *

There are no monsters anymore.

Weird as hell to think of. They'd been chasing monsters since before he could remember. Before they were even born, if that time travel stint they'd done was true. And Sam knew it was.

Who knew that the death of an archangel was all it took to rid the world of monsters, angels, demons, and anything else that might have once gone bump in the night?

Every single day, he wished there had been another way.

It had come as a bit of a shock at first, when they'd noticed. A family full of magical beings, suddenly devoid of the magic some of them had known their entire lives? Of course they were thrown for a loop. And it wasn't just them. No, magic was gone all across the board. It had taken a month or so, but they'd gotten in touch with contacts and friends confirming their suspicions.

The vampires without that second set of teeth.  
The wendigoes that simply disappeared.  
The shapeshifters that could no longer shift.  
The witches with worthless spells and useless potions.  
The orb-less whitelighters.  
The demons trapped in Hell with no way up.  
The demons stuck topside with no way down.  
The hunters with quite literally nothing to do.

It had been one hell of an adjustment period for them. Not only could the Halliwells no longer use the powers they'd always had, but now they also had to be extra careful. The whitelighters in the family could no longer heal, which meant it was a blessing that they had good health insurance, since they finally realized just how clumsy they were. That elusive thought of normalcy, the dream Sam had been chasing his entire life, was now their reality.

And to be honest, he didn't care for it.

But, it's not like he could do anything about it. So, Sam enrolled in The College of San Francisco to try and finish his degree, easily fitting back into life as a student. Peyton took a job at a local salon, despite Sam's protests, meeting his concerns with research and facts of her own that proved it is perfectly safe for a pregnant woman to work in a salon. Leo and Dean had their mechanic business in the garage. Paris took on a heavier load at the company she and Phoenix had started together, the matchmaking service that had exploded into a multimillion-dollar worldwide phenomenon. Wyatt started working at an animal shelter, and Chris?

Chris got married.

It was a shock to all of them when Chris walked into the Manor, holding hands with an exotically beautiful brunette. Piper had stopped short, dark eyes wide in recognition.

Her name was Bianca, and she used to be a Phoenix. A Phoenix, Sam had learned, was a high-powered assassin. Years ago, when Wyatt was just a baby and Chris had gone back in time to save him, Bianca had followed him and nearly killed him, until she died in the process. With Wyatt being saved from turning evil, the future had changed, and Bianca had lived, going to high school with Chris, but leaving for college abroad. She'd just recently returned to California, and when her powers disappeared, she'd called Chris. They met up, discovered they still had feelings for each other, and Chris convinced her that life was too short to waste.

So they'd eloped.

And the Halliwells had gotten a dog.

They all knew it was coming, with tenderhearted Wyatt working at the shelter. And their hearts had melted when he'd walked in the house with the tiny mutt with red-tinted fur in his arms. Kate had taken one look at the puppy and had named her Ariel.

Kate had—still has—a deep obsession with _The Little Mermaid_. She wants to be Ariel, would spend hours in the bathtub if they'd only let her, and constantly begs Peyton to dye her hair red. So, when she noticed the red-tinted fur on the dog … There was no other option for a name.

Now, the mutt is thriving. She's healthy and almost normal-sized for her age, but still a little bit on the small side. She's very loving and sweet, follows Kate around like she's her shadow, and—just like Kate—has developed a deep attachment to Dean. So much so that no matter what, every night, the dog creeps in from her place in the kitchen to curl up beside Dean's couch/bed in the sunroom.

Dean still can't go upstairs.

They don't talk about why.

* * *

October was hard.

Dean left just after the first, in the middle of the night. Leo stood at his bedroom and watched the Impala crawl down the street, tears slipping down his cheeks. Dean called Sam later, staying on the phone just long enough to let him know he was with Bobby and he'd be back later. When that would be exactly was left unsaid, but if Sam was a betting man, he'd put his money on sometime in November.

Dean stayed drunk from Peyton's birthday to Halloween. Bobby couldn't blame him, and he didn't even try to stop him.

Bobby knew. While Sam knew what it was like to lose someone he loved, Bobby knew what it was like to lose his wife. Everything Dean was feeling, Bobby had felt. Twice, goddamn it. Losing his wife had been the worst possible thing Bobby had ever had to go through, and if he could have died to be with Karen again, he would have.

Life has never been one to give Bobby what he wants.

So, he drank. And he managed to pull himself out of the bottle when a young, grieving man with two wide-eyed little boys showed up on his porch, asking questions about things he never should have known about.

Bobby watched as Dean drank himself to sleep each night, wanting to do something to help the kid, but knowing in his gut that he was doing all he could. He helped Dean to bed each night, helped him through the hangover the next morning. Although, he didn't really count that, since their idea of a hangover "cure" only consisted of more alcohol.

But on November first, Bobby stood back and watched as Dean spent most of the day hunched over the toilet, waving off Bobby's "help." And when the sickness finally eased, Bobby watched as shaking hands twisted the top onto the half-empty bottle.

_Onto_. Not off of.

Dean slept through November second, which both Sam and Bobby took as a blessing. Sam offered to drive up to Sioux Falls and bring Dean back with him, and Bobby offered to drive Dean back to the Manor and visit everyone. But Dean insisted he'd wait until he was 100% again and drive himself back.

The alcohol was out of his system by November fourth, and after a hot shower and half a pot of black coffee, Dean headed back to San Francisco. He gave Bobby a long, hard hug, and both men were relieved when the ringing of the phone saved them from an awkward goodbye.

Dean tried to apologize when he got back to the Manor, but no one would hear of it. Instead of the brushoffs he was expecting, he received hugs and nods, before everyone went back to their own things. The dog acted like he'd been gone a year instead of a month, and Kate took up residence in his lap, telling him all the things she'd learned about in kindergarten while he'd been gone.

Peyton's belly had popped while he was gone. He'd laughed when he saw her, looking like she'd stuffed a little basketball under her shirt. And when his laughter had given way to tears, Peyton had just wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers through his hair until he could breathe again. After that, Dean spent quite a bit of time with his hands resting over his niece or nephew, smiling when he began to feel soft kicks against his palms. Peyton spent the time with Dean reading through _What to Expect When You're Expecting_, and it was somehow therapeutic for the both of them.

* * *

Dean stood at the kitchen sink, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other in the front pocket of his jeans. He looked out the window, watching the sun begin to light the Earth, watching that damn dog run around while barking her head off, chasing after butterflies in the garden. He reached up and touched the chain around his neck, swallowing the last of his coffee before setting the cup in the sink and sliding both hands into his pockets.

Six months.

Somehow, he'd survived six months without her. He didn't know how. Honest to God—or whoever—he had no idea how he was still breathing. Let alone how he was still topside.

At first, he'd wanted to die, too. That would have been so much easier. Less painful. He'd gotten pretty damn close a couple of times. And just when he was about to pull the trigger, or pull a Juliet and drive the knife in, Sam would cross his mind, or he'd hear Kate giggle, and he … He just couldn't.

So, he cried instead. And he diligently ignored the stern voice of John Winchester in his head, telling him to "dry it up, son. Soldiers don't cry." When he'd grown tired of crying, he'd done what he thought Winchesters did best, and tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol. October had been especially brutal on his liver, and if he didn't end up with some sort of liver damage from that bender, it would be a freakin' miracle.

He reached up again, rolling his fingers over the two oddly-shaped bumps that now constantly rested beneath the collar of his shirt. He'd noticed the stares, the questions on everyone's faces, especially Sam's. He wouldn't answer questions about it.

The amulet was gone. He'd thrown it away in some godforsaken, forgettable motel room, and honestly, he regretted it. If he could go back, he'd handle that differently.

He'd do a lot of things differently.

He let out a sigh, running one of his hands over his face before reaching for his cup in the sink, meaning to wash it out. Instead, he gripped the edge of the countertop. He hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus on pushing air into and out of his lungs.

It happened like this sometimes. Just out of nowhere, a wave of grief so overwhelming and consuming would slam into him, and he'd be certain that this time, he wouldn't be able to get through it. With his eyes closed, he could see her standing before him, the sweet smile she only gave to him on her beautiful face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"_It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I love you."_

The light had been so bright. He was honestly afraid for a second that he'd end up like Pamela, eyes burned out, and the last thing he'd ever see was his wife sacrificing herself.

But he'd opened his eyes to a field of emptiness.

And now, he opened his eyes to see the dog through the window, sitting in the grass, head tilted to one side as she looked back at him.

Dean blinked, tears swimming in his eyes, and he let out a quiet laugh. He shook his head and forced his legs to move, walking to the backyard and dropping to his knees, laughing again when Ariel tackled him, licking the tears from his cheeks.

It still hurt. Every breath brought with it a twinge of sadness and pain, but he could laugh again. He could play with Kate, make her giggle like he used to. He still couldn't go to their bedroom, and he honestly couldn't even say her name. He knew he'd never love anyone else as long as he lived and that, strangely enough, was okay with him.

"Okay."

He wasn't okay, not by a long shot. He'd never be "normal" again, not even in the twisted sense of normal the Winchesters held. But he was alive. And maybe this could be his new normal. Figuring out a way to work through the pain.

No, it wasn't ideal, but it was all he had.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2, time to meet some new people! Please let me know what you think of this chapter. I've written it a couple of different ways, but this was the one I liked the best. Keep your minds open here. I'm anxious to read the reviews on this one. ;) Thanks guys! **

_Chapter Two_

Eva heard about the place from Jason Martin, who said his older brother had found the place when he'd run away from home. Jason had explained to her how their dad had flipped out when he discovered Steven liked boys, and after their dad was done with him, Steven packed his things and took off. Steven had been able to keep in touch with his brother, giving him an address to write letter to. Eva didn't even know people still wrote letters these days, until Jason showed her the stack he was hiding underneath his mattress. And she'd heard him promise at least a thousand times that as soon as he could, Jason was going to go find his brother.

Maybe now he could come find Eva, too.

She glanced around, pulling her coat tighter around her. It was frigid, and low-hanging clouds had been threatening snow all morning. Eva sniffed, then noticed an old building that seemed familiar to her.

Mr. Hernandez's store. She was in Alphabet City. She and her mother had lived there for a little while when Eva was really young. Almost before she could remember. Back when times were hard for her mother, but life was good for Eva.

Before her mother found that bastard she moved in with. Before the drugs took hold of them both.

Eva sniffled again, walking by the store, leaving the memories of her past behind her. She came to a stop at a red light, glancing around, finding the staircase down to the subway. She let out a breath of relief when she got down there, soaking in the warmth. She glanced around, saw no cops, and hopped over the turnstile, rubbing her gloved hands together as she found the map on the wall. She waited a few minutes, then climbed onto the yellow line, shaking her head at the stupidity of location for this place.

She got off of the subway at the next to the last stop, walking up the steps and into the snow. She cursed under her breath, pulling her jacket even tighter around her. She looked up, at the snow falling down, shining like little flecks of diamonds in the lights from Times Square.

This was _such_ a bad idea.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying and failing to drown out the bustle of the people and the city around her. What had Jason's note said? Somewhere in an alley between Central Park and Broadway. Well, Broadway was a hell of a long street. And it wasn't even one street, it like broke off and did its own thing. Broadway had a mind of its own.

That's a stupid-ass location for "a shelter for runaway and homeless teens" anyway.

Too many cars, too many tourists, too many damn people around at all times. Eva tightened the death grip she had on her backpack, which held the pathetic, meager belongings that were hers and hers alone. Not even enough to fill the bag.

She sniffled again, and wondered if there was any way she could get over to the Bowery before the sun went down. She could take the subway again, but there would be cops everywhere around here, and she never could afford a metro card. The snow was falling faster now, flakes growing thicker, and Eva knew all of the shelters around here would be full by nightfall.

And then she watched as three kids her age walked by her, one of them holding a red Starbucks cup. They were laughing and talking, breaking out into song the way only teenagers can and still get away with it. Eva watched as they walked past her, paying her no attention, one of them running ahead to turn around and walk backwards as she talked to the others.

Eva found herself following them, deciding to sleep in the subway if all else fails. They turned a corner, and Eva stood back, hidden from their sight, watching as each of them touched a piece of the wall before opening the door, shedding scarves and bags as they walked inside.

She slowly walked to the place they'd just went in, stopping when she saw what they all touched. Simple words engraved into the stone.

"_Carly's House, Est. 1999"_

Eva blinked, shaking her head, re-reading the sign. She'd found it. She held onto the railing as she made her way up the slick front steps, taking in a deep breath, then knocking on the door.

Bad idea. Worst idea. She's such a dumbass. Eva hurried down the steps, slipping on a slick patch at the bottom, catching herself on the railing. She took a moment to center herself, glancing to the right.

"I'm so sorry! It's so loud and crazy in here that it takes forever to realize someone's at the door."

Eva turned back, looking up the steps, taken aback by how pretty the woman standing before her was. No, "pretty" wasn't a good enough word to describe this woman. She was downright beautiful, and even that word didn't do her justice. She shivered, rubbing her hands along her arms.

"Jesus, it's freezing out here. Come on in."

Eva blinked, and the woman's smile went soft. She poked her head further out of the door, shivering again as she looked down the alley, then up. Eva watched the snowflakes fall onto the woman's face, saw how she seemed to flinch at each one, as if the flakes were causing her pain. The woman let out a shaky breath, then smiled, stepping back into the house.

"It's warm in here, and I've almost got dinner ready. Are you hungry?"

Eva hadn't realized just exactly how hungry she was until the woman mentioned food. She nodded, and the woman smiled, a pale, slender hand sticking out from under her thick sweater. Eva shook her head, speaking softly.

"I don't have any money."

The woman smiled, giving her a wink.

"Good. I don't need any. Come on."

Eva swallowed, placing her hand in the woman's, slowly walking up the steps and into the house.

* * *

Meredith.

The woman's name was Meredith, and she did not like the quiet. She didn't come right out and say that, but Eva deduced it, from the steady one-sided conversation Meredith held, while the radio played quietly in the background.

There was a huge pot of something on the stove that Meredith stayed close to, stirring every once in a while, sprinkling in different spices. It smelled delicious, and seemed to warm the kitchen, although you couldn't tell that by looking at Meredith.

She was cold-natured, Meredith had told Eva. She told Eva about how Alex had been convinced that she had low iron in her blood or something, but the doctors had said she was perfectly healthy. Just cold. Like a snake, Alex swore. She wore thick flannel pants, thick socks, and that oversized, heavy sweater, and she still shivered every now and then, crossing her arms over her stomach, like she was trying to get warm.

Eva had already shed her jacket and shoes, and the feeling had come back into her hands rather quickly. Meredith had promised to get Eva a scarf and gloves before tomorrow, the next day at the latest. School would be out tomorrow anyway, Meredith was almost certain, and the kids in the house had already started making bets on that.

Anyway, Meredith did not own the place. Alex did. Meredith just cooked and cleaned and helped the kids and pretty much ran the place, from what Eva could see. The kids adored her; that was easy to see from the few that came into the kitchen while Eva was sitting there.

There were eleven kids there at the moment, and Eva made twelve. They usually averaged about eight, but the number would fluctuate, going up when the weather got cold or rainy, and going down closer to the holidays. Meredith told her about the kids, promising she'd get to meet them when they came to eat dinner. Everyone ate together, that was one of Meredith's rules.

No cooking in the kitchen without music was another of her rules.

Tomato sauce worked well with jazz. Alfredo did wonders with a little country. Loud powerhouse voices, ala Whitney Houston, Celine Dion, Mariah, or Christina, were the only things that could get her bread to rise properly.

And apparently, classic rock was what "made" chili.

Thank God it wasn't that mariachi crap Eva's mother's boyfriend loved.

"Have you heard this song before?"

Eva shook her head, and Meredith sighed as she reached over and turned the music up. She shook her head.

"It's a shame kids don't listen to this anymore. It's classic. Good God, I sound like a grandmother."

Eva laughed, and Meredith sang quietly under her breath. She grabbed some kind of spice and sprinkled it into the pot in front of her. Eva leaned in closer, closing her eyes as she heard the soft, lilting voice of Meredith singing along to the radio.

"_And I meant every word I said. When I said that I loved you, I meant that I'll love you forever."  
"And I'm gonna keep on loving yoooooou!"_

Meredith grabbed onto the stove as she let out a laugh.

"'_Cause it's the only thing I wanna dooooo!"_

Meredith was swept into the arms of a tall, skinny guy who twirled her around the kitchen. She laughed as she held onto him, shaking her head as he continued to sing, extremely off-key.

"_I don't wanna sleep! I just wanna keep on loving yoooou!"_

Eva and Meredith both cringed at the wrongness of the high-pitched note he ended the song on. It ended—mercifully—sooner than Eva expected, and the guy dipped Meredith, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he helped her stand back up. Meredith swatted his arm when she was upright again.

"I thought you were going to be late tonight!"  
"Meeting went short, thank God."

He walked over to the cabinet, where he'd set down a brown paper bag. He picked up the bag now, and opened the refrigerator. He lifted the bottle of sparkling grape juice, holding it up for Meredith to see. She gasped, hands coming up to cover her mouth.

"We got it?"

He smiled.

"We got it."

Meredith squealed as he took her in his arms again, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around. He set her on the ground, grasping her hands in his.

"We really got it?"  
"Unanimously."

Meredith covered her mouth again, tears appearing in her eyes. The guy smiled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

"You did good, Mer. Great, actually. The proposal was what sealed the deal."  
"I worked really hard on it."  
"I know you did. Gregory wants to take you to lunch one day to discuss … How did he put it? 'The brilliance and eloquence of your words,' I believe was what he said."

Blue eyes went wide.

"Herman Gregory wants to take me to lunch?"  
"Don't act so shocked."

Meredith smiled, putting her hands on her face and shaking her head.

"Oh, I'm dreaming."  
"Or not."  
"We got the grant to open another shelter."  
"We did. Well, _you_ got it for us, but…"  
"Alex."

He smiled, setting the bottles of juice in the fridge before walking over and taking her in his arms. She shivered and put her face in his chest and he closed his eyes.

"You okay?"

She nodded, voice muffled in his shirt.

"Just a little cold. It's snowing."

Alex glanced out the window, gently rubbing his hands up and down Meredith's arms.

"You sure?"  
"I'm always cold, Alex."  
"More so than normal? You know that happens before—"  
"Don't. I'm fine."  
"Will you be fine tomorrow?"

She leaned back, smiling up at him.

"Let's cross that bridge when we get to it."

He sighed, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Meredith's ear. Her hair was short, a pixie cut, Eva thought it was called. Her hair barely touched the top of the turtleneck Meredith wore underneath that thick sweater.

"Alex, this is Eva."

Eva's eyes went wide as she looked up to meet the dark eyes of the man standing beside Meredith.

"Eva, this is the guy I was telling you about. The one who owns this place."

He smiled, holding out a hand.

"Hi. Alex Donaldson."

Eva's mouth fell open.

"Alex Donald-_the_ Alex Donaldson? The millionaire?"

He smiled, nodding as he grabbed the chair across from her, turning it around and straddling it, resting his arms over the back.

"Yeah, I'm the millionaire. But that's not what's important here."  
"What's more important than money?"  
"You."

Alex and Meredith had spoken at the same time, and Eva blinked again. She narrowed her eyes and Alex let out a laugh. He tapped the table before he spoke.

"This is the spiel I give everybody who comes here, so just bear with me. When I was twelve, many moons ago, my sixteen-year-old sister ran away from home. We had a crappy life, the details of which are not important now, and she found a way out. She promised she'd be back for me, as soon as she got on her feet. But she, uh …"

He cleared his throat.

"She was killed out on the streets."

He glanced down at the table, shaking his head.

"I didn't even find out until two years later. And all I could think was, if she could have had a place to go, somewhere safe, she might still be here."

Eva stared down at the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth and Alex spoke again, softer.

"So I founded Carly's House. It's named for her, and it's for kids like her … Like you."

Eva looked up and Alex smiled at her.

"If you want to tell us the details, you can. If not, you've got a place here, a safe place, and you can stay as long as you need."

Eva raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're not going to send me home?"

Alex shook his head.

"And you're not going to make me tell you why I came here?"

Alex shook his head again.

"If you want to talk, I'm usually around here somewhere. And if you don't want to talk to me, Mer's always ready to listen. Unless it's Tuesday morning, because that's when she goes to the farmer's market. And … what is it, babe, Saturdays?"  
"Every other Sunday."  
"Right. Every other Sunday, she goes to the Bowery Mission."

Eva nodded, tracing the squares in front of her.

"So I don't have to give you any money and I can just stay here for as long as I want?"  
"Oh, it's not completely free."

Eva glanced up as Meredith turned back from the stove.

"This is a big place, needs a lot of keep-up. There's dishes and clothes to wash and put away. Floors to be swept."  
"Video games to be played."

Meredith rolled her eyes at Alex.

"Forgive him, he's really twelve years old still."

Alex winked at her, and Meredith walked over to the table.

"What I mean is, if you stay here, you have to pull your weight. You keep your space clean, pick up after yourself, help us out sometimes. Everyone's got their own chores and stuff to do, and school is a top priority."

Eva looked back at the table and swallowed.

"I don't do good in school. I haven't been since before Thanksgiving. Not like anybody missed me."

She missed the look that was passed between Meredith and Alex, and Meredith cleared her throat.

"Well, you've got to go if you stay here. Eva, look at me."

Eva looked up and shook her head.

"I'm stupid, okay?"  
"No, you're not."  
"I am. That's why nobody missed me at that stupid place. Nobody gives a damn."  
"I do."

Eva blinked, and Meredith laid her hands on the table, leaning forward.

"I will help you, and you and I will make it through the rest of this school year."

Eva blinked again, then spoke quietly.

"I'm no good at math stuff."  
"Well, lucky for you, I am. And Mer's good at all the rest, science and English and history stuff, so you're golden, kid."  
"What if I flunk? Do I have to go back?"

Meredith took the seat beside Eva.

"Nope. But if you flunk, you flunk while doing the absolute best that you can, all right?"

Eva shook her head.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you give a damn about me?"

Meredith smiled.

"Because someone once gave a damn about me, and I've never gotten over it."

Eva watched as Alex slid his hand across the table, and Meredith slid her hand into his. They smiled at each other, and Meredith sniffled, standing up and letting go of his hand, walking over to the stove, lifting the lid off the pot and stirring it.

"So what do you say, kid? Give us a chance?"

Eva looked to Alex, then back down to the checkered tablecloth. She slowly nodded her head, and Alex smiled.

"Awesome."

* * *

The kitchen filled with people after Alex gave out an ear-piercing whistle. Meredith had tried to warn her, but Eva jumped anyway, and Alex said she'd been properly initiated then. Eva watched, wide-eyed, until Meredith walked over and stood behind her, laying her cool hands on Eva's shoulders.

"That one that just walked in? That's Jackie."

Eva watched the tall, skinny girl with cocoa-colored skin and dark curly hair grab a bowl and hand it to the redhead next to her.

"The little one beside her?"  
"The girl with the Star Wars shirt?"

Meredith smiled.

"Yes. That's Charlie."

Meredith looked over as three boys walked into the kitchen, laughing and pushing each other.

"Hey, no roughhousing around the food!"

They all got sheepish looks on their faces, and Meredith laughed as they walked over, wrapping her in hugs and kissing her cheeks.

"Oh, enough! Get some food. Jake, two bowls?"

One boy stopped, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

"Do I have to eat two?"

Meredith's smile went soft.

"No, baby. As much as you want. There's plenty, okay?"

Jake smiled, then nodded, stepping in line behind a boy who nudged him with his shoulder.

"Jake's got black hair, Steven's in front of him, and the gangly one is Ricky."

Eva nodded.

"Ain't nobody call him Jake 'cept for Mer, though."

Meredith smiled as a boy no taller than Eva walked over, looking her right in the eye.

"We all call him Abercrombie, 'cause he looks like a model."

Jake rolled his eyes as a blush colored his cheeks, and the boy standing in front of Eva, with skin as dark as his deep brown eyes laughed.

"I'm Devon. The coolest cat around this joint."

Everyone in the room groaned, immediately protesting, and Eva couldn't help but smile. Two girls walked into the room, neither one saying a word. One had curly blonde hair, the other straight black that fell over her face. Eva glanced up at Meredith, who smiled at her.

"Bethany and Mae. They got here about a week ago, and they're still getting used to everything and everyone. They don't talk too much."

Eva nodded, and a tall girl with red ringlet curls walked into the room, her hand clasped in the hugely muscled guy's that walked in behind her. His face with colored with bruises, and he walked slowly, like he had a limp. Alex smiled walking over to them.

"P-Dog. How you feeling, my man?"

The guy smiled, shrugging one shoulder.

"Better than yesterday. Worse than tomorrow, I'm sure."

Alex smiled, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. Meredith set a roll of paper towels on the table and walked back to Eva.

"Patrick and Elise. So now we're just waiting on …"

A girl with her nose buried in a book walked into the room. Meredith smiled and leaned over flipping the lights on and off. The girl looked up, and Meredith kept the smile on her face, making gestures with her hands that made the other girl smile. She set the book down, gesturing back, and Meredith laughed. The girl motioned to Eva, a curious look on her face, and Eva finally recognized Meredith spelling out her name in sign language.

"She's deaf?"

Meredith glanced back at Eva, then to the tables, which had suddenly fallen silent.

"Eat."

They did, staying quiet, and Meredith laid her hand on Eva's shoulder again.

"Yes. Her name is Julia. Do you sign?"

Eva shook her head.

"I just noticed my name."  
"Oh, good! Well, we can teach you some things, if you want. Otherwise, just speak slowly and clearly. Julia's pretty good at lip-reading."

Eva nodded, and Meredith cleared her throat. All eyes turned to her, and Meredith smiled.

"This is Eva. Say 'hello, Eva.'"

A resounding chorus repeated Meredith's words, and Alex handed her a bowl of thick chili.

"There are crackers over there and hot sauce too, if you're brave enough."  
"Not everyone has the iron stomach Alex does, so don't let him pressure you."

Alex laughed, taking a huge bite as he sat down. He started to say something, until Meredith held up a hand. She shivered once, then narrowed her eyes at him.

"We have manners in this place, and we swallow before we speak. Not a word."

Meredith pointed at the boys, who were all clumped together in one section of the table, and they all turned their attention to their bowls, snickering quietly. Meredith fixed herself a bowl, laying a hand on Eva's back and leading her to the empty seat at the end of the table. She sat down beside Eva, across from Alex, smiling at the chatter at the table.

"Is it like this all the time?"

Meredith and Alex exchanged a glance, smiling before Alex went back to his food and Meredith turned to Eva.

"Pretty much."  
"It's just … everyone's so happy, and I … I thought this place was—"  
"It is."

Eva glanced down the table, to see Steven looking back at her, piercing blue eyes focused on her. The exact same eyes as his brother, the friend she'd left behind.

"You can either dwell on your crap, or you can focus on starting over. I don't have to be the gay kid who's Dad beat the shit out of him here. Sorry, 'crap.' Sorry, Mer."

She nodded, and Steven shrugged his shoulders.

"Here, I'm just Steven."  
"Or … what is it Abercrombie calls you? 'Sweet baby'?"

The kids at the table cracked up, and Steven's face went red. There was a smile on his face when he pointed at Devon.

"It's supposed to snow all night. When I kick your a—butt in a snowball fight tomorrow—"  
"Oh, you are _so_ on."

As the trash-talking started up all the way down the table, Meredith rolled her eyes, looking over to Eva.

"Eat up. There's plenty left, if you want some more."

This day had not gone the way Eva had expected, not in the least bit. But this place wasn't that bad. She could see herself sticking around, at least for a little while.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am LOVING the reviews on this! Please keep them coming. Some of you have picked up on things, and some of you have not. Some of you have some great ideas, too! But remember what I said: Keep your mind open. Remember everything leading up to this. And remember the title of this story. It's more than just a phrase from a line of a song. It's a clue, if you will. **

_Chapter Three_

Paris walked into the kitchen, a wide smile spreading across her face when she saw Sam and Peyton sitting at the table.

"Look at my wittle baby sister and her wittle baby bump!"  
"Oh, stop it."

Paris walked over and pulled a chair up beside Peyton, laying her hands on Peyton's blossoming stomach. Peyton rolled her eyes as she huffed out a breath, and Paris just grinned.

"Hello, sweet baby! It's your favorite aunt Paris! I cannot wait to see you and spoil you and—"  
"He's got three more months in there, Pare. Chill."

Paris watched as Sam got up from the table, walking over to the refrigerator. He glanced back at her, and she raised one slender eyebrow.

"'He,' Samuel? You're calling my niece a 'he'?"

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You know that we're not finding out what the baby is."  
"Yes, but I also know that my side of the Halliwells only has girls."  
"Well, the same can be said for my side of the Winchesters having boys."  
"So it seems to me that we've got a clear 50/50 shot!"

Peyton let out a breath when her mother walked into the room. Phoebe took Sam's seat that he'd vacated, leaning to kiss Peyton's cheek and lay a hand over her belly.

"You're gorgeous."  
"I'm huge."

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He could tell Peyton how beautiful she was all day long, and she'd still complain that she was fat. He'd always thought she was incredibly beautiful, but now that she was carrying his child… Sam lifted a hand to rub at his chest as Dean walked into the kitchen from the garage, shaking his head, grease all down the front of his white t-shirt, all over his hands, and even some up by the tip of his ear. Sam made a face at him, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Turn the water on for me, will you, Princess?"

Sam flipped him off, but turned the water on, and Dean laughed before he washed his hands of the engine grease. The girls all conspicuously tried to inconspicuously scratch their ears, and Sam just laughed as Dean leaned over the sink to clean that off, too.

Paris let out a sigh, leaning over and kissing Peyton's belly before she stood up, smoothing out her skirt, straightening the sleeveless red top she wore. Peyton and Phoebe exchanged a look as Peyton laid a hand on her belly, right over where the baby kicked. Paris looked up, saw her mother and sister staring at her, and she sighed.

"Do I look okay?"

Peyton grinned.

"Got a hot date?"

Paris' cheeks flushed, and Peyton let out a laugh.

"She do!"

Paris put her face in her hands. Sam nodded from his place near Dean, by the sink.

"That Ridge dude?"

Paris glared at Sam.

"Yes. And his name is Ridge Benjamin, thank you very much."  
"Ridge Benjamin. Sounds snobby."

Dean snorted into his bottle of water while Paris rolled her eyes.

"Why do we have to go over this every time we speak?"

She smoothed out her shirt again.

"Ridge is a partner at the Carlton, Matthews, and Benjamin advertising firm. They signed on to do the latest ads for Charmed, I'm Sure, and did a fabulous job."  
"Not fabulous enough for him to make a profile and find you?"

Paris narrowed her eyes at Dean.

"Like I'd make a profile on my own dating service. Ridge contacted me after the ads went public, and we went for coffee."  
"Then they went for drinks at P3, then they had lunch, then he offered to cook for her, but took her bowling, of all things, when she balked."

Paris glanced at Peyton, then shook her head.

"We are taking things slow."  
"So you're serious about him?"

Paris swallowed, looking over at her mother.

"I think so."

She pushed a hand through her caramel-colored curls.

"He's nice to me. Has a good job, his own car. Seems genuinely interested. Didn't make one joke about the whole dating service company I'm CEO of. Which is more than I can say for these two clowns."  
"Hey!"

Sam and Dean spoke at the same time, making Phoebe and Peyton smile. Dean stepped forward, shaking a finger at Paris.

"I'll have you know … Sammy here hates clowns. Scared to death."  
"I am not—Dean!"

The girls laughed, and Paris grabbed her purse, slipping it on her shoulder.

"Moral of the story is, yes. I am serious about Ridge. Seriously taking things slow and seeing what happens."  
"Honey…"

Paris looked to her mother.

"You've been taking it slow for nearly two months now. Speed it up a bit."

Sam choked on the water he'd just taken a sip of, and Peyton looked wide eyes at Phoebe.

"Mother."  
"What? Oh, like you're all pristine little virgins. Ha ha, yeah right."

Phoebe motioned towards Peyton's belly, and Peyton nodded. Paris blinked widely, then shook her head.

"Okay, I'm going to go before this conversation gets any … No. Goodbye."

Peyton laughed as Paris waved a hand behind her while she walked out the backdoor. Peyton raised up her arms, stretching lazily and yawning, and Sam walked over, smiling while he leaned down, kissing her gently, laying his big, warm hand over their baby. Phoebe just smiled as she watched them, and Dean turned away, a lance of pain shooting through his heart.

Peyton glanced at the sink, saw Dean standing with his head hanging down. She looked up and met Sam's eyes, motioning for him to go to his brother. Sam nodded, leaning over and kissing her once more before he helped her to her feet. She and Phoebe left the room, and Sam leaned against the table, clearing his throat.

Dean glanced behind him, a soft smile crossing his face when he noticed the room was empty.

"Couldn't wait to get me alone, Sammy?"  
"Ha ha, dick. No, I … I just wanted to …"

Sam stood up, walking over to the sink where Dean stood. Sam reached in his pocket, handing the small, velvet box to Dean. A grin broke out across Dean's face, and Sam nodded, face breaking out into a smile, too.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me. Hell of an order of operations, I know, but …"

Dean popped open the box, letting out a quiet whistle.

"Damn, son. Look at this thing. Good job."  
"You think she'll like it?"

Dean blinked back the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, and nodded. Sam gripped his brother's shoulder, and Dean looked watery green eyes to Sam. After a quiet moment, Dean closed the box, handing it back to Sam.

"She's gonna love it. She'll go nuts, Sammy."  
"You really think so?"

Dean smiled sadly, quietly clearing his throat. He reached up to pat the bumps under his shirt, what Sam has come to think of his new amulet. Dean cleared his throat again, then nodded.

"I know so."

* * *

Dean helped Sam put it all together, the strings of fairy lights in the backyard, the lanterns set up with candles in them, the rose petals every-freakin'-where. Piper cooked the food with help from Leo, and Phoebe stood around, sniffling into a Kleenex while Coop continuously sighed, shaking his head as he stood on a ladder, twisting lights into the trees.

Dean tried his best not to think about the last time he saw rose petals all over the place. He tried not to remember the last time he saw fairy lights in the trees, the back yard lit up like a wonderland. He tried not to remember, but the memories slammed into him with nearly every step he took.

Seeing Melinda's face as they stepped outside, as she hadn't known that they'd transformed it into a dreamy, romantic, near-fairyland.

Dancing with her the night before their wedding.

"_I waited for you. For so long, I hoped you would come and find me. And you did. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but … God, I love you, Dean. With everything I have in me, I love you."_

He blinked back tears as he glanced around the backyard, shaking his head. He pushed the petals into Wyatt's hands and rushed inside, gripping onto the sink in the kitchen, breathing hard as tears poured down his face.

A damp rag was pressed into his fist before a warm hand settled between his shoulder blades.

"Breathe, son."

Dean shook his head.

"Leo, I … I can't—"  
"It's all right, Dean."  
"No, it—"

Dean sighed, leaning up, pressing the rag against his face before he let out a breath. He turned around, facing his father-in-law, leaning against the sink. He took in a shaky breath, turning the rag around in his hands.

"Yesterday, I finally felt like I might be okay. Six damn months, and I could finally draw a breath without thinking about her last one. And then today, I can't even go in the goddamn backyard without losing my shit."

Leo lifted a hand to wipe at his mouth, nodding before he crossed his arms over his chest.

"The last time the backyard looked like that was at your wedding."

Dean closed his eyes as pain shot through his heart.

"No one expects you to be okay. Frankly, I'm surprised you were able to help at all."  
"But I'm not the only one who …"  
"What? Who lost her?"

Dean looked down at the rag in his hands, feeling the tears rush to his eyes again. Leo sighed, shaking his head.

"You're not. We're all hurting, Dean. Even now. Even if it has been six months. There's no deadline to grief, son. Nothing says we have to be over it by 'x' amount of days. It's okay for you to lose your shit."

Leo reached over, gripping Dean's shoulder.

"You lost your wife, Dean. There's … You might never get over that."

Dean nodded, still staring at his hands, speaking softly.

"My dad didn't. Bobby didn't."

Leo nodded, and Dean finally lifted his head, tears swimming in his emerald eyes.

"But she was your daughter."

Leo gave him a small, sad smile.

"So, what? My grief is supposed to mean more than yours? I have a longer window to cry over it than you do? That's bullshit, Dean."

Leo shook his head, stepping over to the window, seeing Chris lean backwards as he laughed out loud. Sam walked over and pushed his chest, and Chris grabbed onto Sam's arm, leaning forward as he laughed. Sam just shook his head, a huge smile on his own face before he laughed, as well. Leo's voice was quiet as it cut through the stillness of the kitchen.

"You're right, though. I'll never—"

He coughed, clearing his throat, his voice rough when he spoke again.

"I'll never have another daughter. But I can't spend the rest of my life mourning her. She wouldn't want me to. And she wouldn't want you to, either. Listen to me."

Dean looked up, meeting Leo's sad blue eyes.

"You will always be a part of this family. No matter what happens. But you don't have to stay here for the rest of your life. You can go, Dean, and you can find—"  
"No."

Leo stopped when Dean's eyes went hard. He shook his head, jaw clenched.

"Don't even say that."  
"But you can—"  
"I will never love anyone else."  
"Dean—"  
"No. She was it for me. I appreciate your words, but I'm not planning on going anywhere, if that's okay with you."

Leo sighed, stepping closer and taking Dean in his arms.

"It's very okay. You and your brother are welcome here forever. And you don't ever have to go anywhere. I just wanted you to know that you have the option."

Dean nodded, patting Leo's back before he stepped out of his embrace. He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair.

"I appreciate it. But I … I'm a Winchester. And if there's one thing I learned from my father, it's that when you love, it's one woman. And when she gets taken from you, you spend the rest of your life missing her."

Dean turned his wedding ring around on his finger, then let out a cough.

"I need some air. Will you tell Sammy that I—"  
"Of course."

Dean nodded, walking over to the key rack near the door, pulling his keys from their place. He held a hand on the back door, and a small voice made him turn back.

"Uncle Dean?"

He smiled as he knelt down, and Kate walked to him, holding a leash in her hands. He lifted a hand, tucking a stray strand of dark chocolate-colored hair behind her ear.

"What's up, little bit?"

Kate lifted dark blue eyes to his.

"Will you help me take Ariel on a walk? She's bigger than she used to be, and she's hard to hold on to now."

She looked back down at the leash, and Dean smiled.

"I was just thinking that I needed a break."  
"Really?"  
"Oh, yeah. You've got perfect timing, kid."

Dean stood up, whistling through his teeth, and the dog came bounding into the kitchen. Dean jumped to his feet before the dog could knock him over, and he pulled Kate back against his legs, keeping her upright, as well.

"We have got to teach this mutt some commands."

Kate giggled as Ariel licked her face, and Dean shook his head, clipping the leash to Ariel's collar.

"This should be fun."

* * *

Dean sat across from Kate at the Burger King, both of them watching the dog they'd tied up outside, who thought it was a good idea to bark at every single car that went by on the busy street. Until the sun went down, at which time Ariel decided she'd done enough and laid down, putting her head on her paws and taking a nap. Dean laughed as he shook his head, and Kate turned around to face him, taking a sip of her drink from the straw. Dean nodded at her.

"What did you go with?"

Kate pulled back from the straw.

"Dr. Pepper."

Dean made a face, and Kate giggled.

"It's better than coffee."  
"That is not true. Here, take a sip."

Kate made a face, clamping her lips together and shaking her head. Dean laughed as he leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms out.

"Why can't we go home?"

Dean smiled.

"Because. Uncle Sam is proposing the Aunt Peyton, and he asked us to let them be alone."

Kate nodded.

"And what does 'proposing' mean?"

Dean smiled again.

"Sam's asking Peyton to marry him."

Kate's mouth fell open.

"They're going to get married?"  
"If she says yes."

Kate nodded as she sat back against the booth.

"She'll say yes."

Dean smiled.

"You think so?"  
"Why wouldn't she? She loves him. He loves her. I think they should have got married a long time ago."

Dean let out a quiet laugh.

"Guess we should have consulted you first."

Kate nodded, a serious look on her little face, and Dean laughed again. Their food arrived then, and Dean helped Kate open the ketchup for her fries, and the sauce for her chicken nuggets. She took another sip of her drink, then picked up a fry.

"I miss Aunt Melinda."

Dean went still, burger halfway to his mouth. He set it back down on the tray, wiping his hands on his pants. He swallowed, shaking his head.

"Wh—what?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders.

"This makes me think about her."  
"Burger King?"

Kate shook her head.

"No. She liked to have different things to dip her fries in. Just like me."

Dean slowly nodded, remembering different times that Melinda had ketchup, barbeque sauce, mustard even, spread out across her plate. Ranch dressing, steak sauce, nothing was off-limits.

"She called it something, but I don't remember what."

Dean swallowed.

"A variety."

Kate looked up at him and her face lit up. She smiled and nodded.

"That's it! She liked a variety of dips. And I do, too."

Dean nodded at her, looking back down at his burger, which was all kinds of unappetizing all of a sudden. Kate sighed, and he looked over to her, as she dipped a chicken nugget in ketchup.

"I miss Aunt Melinda a lot."

Dean nodded again, speaking softly, his voice ragged.

"I do, too."

Kate chewed her food, then looked over at him.

"You don't talk about her."  
"I know."  
"Why not? Daddy says it helps to talk."

Dean nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.

"I just … I can't."  
"Why not?"

Dean looked up, meeting the worried eyes of the five-year-old sitting across from him. How was he supposed to explain to her that pain that shot through his heart every time Kate mentioned her name? How was he supposed to tell her that it had been six months, and he still hadn't been up to the bedroom he shared with her? How was he supposed to explain the way he wanted to die too, but that Kate was the only thing keeping him topside, most of the time?

He cleared his throat, shaking his head. The truth was always best.

"It hurts too much. I know it might help, but …"  
"Because you loved her so much?"

Dean lifted his eyes to hers, and nodded. Kate nodded back, taking another bite of her nuggets.

"Papa told me it's harder for you. That we all loved Aunt Melinda, but not like you loved her."

Dean glanced down at his wedding ring and nodded, whispering softly.

"Papa's right."

Kate was quiet for a moment, until Dean looked up at her, saw her looking out the window.

"I wish my daddy had someone who loved him like that."

Dean closed his eyes, lifting a hand to wipe at his face, looking back to Kate when she spoke again, still quiet.

"Is that how Uncle Sam loves Aunt Peyton?"

Dean smiled.

"Yeah, babe. That's how Sam loves Peyton."  
"And they're going to have a baby."

Oh, dear God. Oh Jesus, _please_ don't let her ask him any questions about the baby. Please, please, _someone_ be listening.

"They'll be a little family."

Dean reached across the table, relief flowing through his veins.

"They're already a family, kid."

Kate looked over at him, little eyebrows furrowing.

"But a family is a mommy and a daddy and a kid."  
"Well, yeah. But that's not the only kind of family there is. I mean, you and your dad, you're a family. And everybody in the Manor, they're all family. _We're_ all family."

Kate blinked at him, a little smile crossing her face.

"Really?"

Dean smiled, squeezing her little hand.

"Really."  
"But I don't have a mommy."  
"Neither do I. But you've got a bunch of other people who love you just as much. They can't take the place of your mom, but they're still family."

Kate nodded, reaching for her drink and sucking through the straw.

"Nobody can take Aunt Melinda's place, either."

Dean swallowed, looking down at his ring.

"You got that right."

* * *

"Dean. Dean, hey."

Dean let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. He yawned widely, then blinked his eyes open. Sam stood over him, a smile on his face.

"Sasquatch?"  
"She said yes."

A smile spread across Dean's face.

"Like there was ever any question."

He went to put his arms around his brother, and noticed the weight on his chest. He glanced down to see Kate sleeping soundly. The dog, naturally, was draped over both Kate's and Dean's legs, snoring. Dean snorted, shaking his head, and Sam smiled.

"Let me help."

Sam picked the dog up, petting her gently, laying her on the floor. She just snuffled a bit, then curled up under the couch. Dean shook his head, and Sam lifted Kate from him. Sam went to hold her, ready to carry her upstairs, when Dean stood up and took her back in his arms.

"Dean?"  
"I've got her. Don't you have a fiancé to tend to?"

Sam smiled as a blush spread across his cheeks. He reached and rubbed at the back of his neck, and Dean laughed quietly. He patted Kate's back as he walked over to the stairs, swallowing once. Sam stepped up behind him, laying his hands on Dean's shoulders. He shook his head, leaning forward to whisper to his brother.

"I can take her. It's fine."  
"No, I … I've got to do this."

Sam nodded, and walked behind Dean as he slowly made his way up the stairs. Sam opened Kate's bedroom door, and Dean laid her on the bed, tugging her blue jeans off, then tucking her under the covers. She snuggled in, letting out a sigh, reaching out until Sam slid her teddy bear into her arms. She sighed again, breathing deep and even. Dean leaned over, pushing the hair from Kate's face, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

He took the hand Sam offered, even though he didn't need it, and Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder as they walked out into the hall. Sam pulled Kate's door shut, watching as Dean walked down the hall, laying a hand on one of the heavy doors. Sam swallowed, and Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead against the door. Sam walked over, and Dean shook his head, speaking softly.

"I don't think I can go in, Sammy."  
"It's okay, Dean. You don't have to."  
"I don't talk about her."

Sam leaned back, shaking his head.

"You don't have to talk about her."  
"It hurts."  
"I know it does."

Dean let out a sigh, shaking his head again.

"I don't know what to do, Sam."

He turned and slid down the doorframe, until he was sitting on the floor. Sam followed him down, wincing when he met the hard, unforgiving floor.

"What do you mean?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't know. Kate kept talking about her today, and I … I can't even say her name, Sam."

Sam nodded. He knew. They all knew.

"I miss her. Every second of every day, I miss her. I dream about her. But she—she's gone."

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head again. Sam licked his lips, speaking softly.

"What do you dream about?"

Dean smiled softly.

"Her. Places we went when we weren't hunting, when I wasn't dragging her across the country."  
"Like what?"  
"Like that lake in Louisiana. She was a surprisingly good fishing partner. Baited her own hook and everything."

Sam smiled.

"Really?"  
"Oh, yeah. Or that time we found that falafel cart in … Jersey, I think? She wouldn't eat anything, because she had a 'feeling,' and when I was awake at three-thirty with the food poisoning from Hell, she didn't even say 'I told you so.' Not once."

Sam let out a laugh, and Dean tapped his knee.

"This one time, I don't even know where you were. You and Peyton had gone to check on something or to see Bobby or something, and she convinced me to go to Mexico."  
"You're lying."

Dean held up his hands, laughing quietly.

"Honest to God. We spent an entire day drinking margaritas and Coronas on the beach, and there even turned out to be a ghost in the hotel we stayed at. After we took care of _el fantasma_, Javier said we were welcome back any time, no charge."  
"Wow."

Dean smiled softly, nodding his head.

"But most of the time, I just see her. She's smiling at me, or reaching her hand out for me. She's laughing, or asleep beside me. All the stuff I didn't appreciate before, the things I took for granted."

He sighed, and Sam lifted a hand to rub at his chest.

"Don't be like me, Sammy."  
"Dean…"  
"Know what you've got while you've still got it, and know how lucky you are to have it. Treat her like you're going to lose her, like it's your job. Promise me you'll do that."

Sam nodded, swallowing hard, blinking the tears back from his eyes.

"I will."

* * *

Dean watched Sam slip back into Peyton's room before he walked down the stairs. He turned towards the sunroom, then slipped his boots off and walked out to the garage. He smiled as he ran his hands over the smooth metal of the Impala, then opened the door and climbed inside.

He let out a long breath, gripping the steering wheel in his hands. He turned and twisted around, until his back was against the door and he had one of his legs propped up on the seat beside him. He reached up, flipping down the visor and a picture fluttered down, landing in his lap. He swallowed, then picked it up, dragging his fingertips over it.

"_Look what I found!"_

_Dean glanced behind him, making a face. _

"_Is that—"  
"A Polaroid camera!"  
"That thing is probably cursed."_

_Melinda stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed. She lifted the camera up, blowing off some of the dust._

"_It works. I just tried it upstairs. Smile."  
"Oh, hell no. What if the curse happens to the people that pictures get taken of?"  
"Chance we'll have to take. Don't make a weird face. Smile."_

_Dean held his hand up in front of his face, and she groaned._

"_Come on!"  
"No."  
"If you do this for me, I'll blow you later."  
"Mel!"_

_He laughed in surprise, and she snapped the picture._

"_Ha! Exactly what I was going for."_

_She shook the picture out and Dean shook his head, running a hand over his face._

"_Jesus Christ."  
"Look how cute you are."_

_She walked over to him, sidling right up next to him, handing him the picture. The look of surprise was evident on his face, eyes wide and mouth open in a smile. He shook his head, wrapping his arm around her. She looked up at him and grinned._

"_Thank you."_

_He leaned down and kissed her lips, closing his eyes, swallowing her giggles when the camera snapped again. They stood there together, smiling when the picture developed of both of them smiling into the kiss. _

Dean smiled again, sniffling as he ran his fingers over the picture, over the words printed on the bottom in Melinda's beautiful handwriting. He'd proposed to her three months after the picture was taken. He cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"Christ Almighty, I miss you."

He didn't try to hide the tears now, but he leaned his head back against the window, taking in a deep breath.

"Melinda."

He closed his eyes at the onslaught of the pain, paying no attention to the tears rolling down his cheeks. He lifted the picture and pressed it over his heart, sobbing out loud.

"Mel. Oh god, baby. _Mel_."

He could barely understand himself through the tears and the sobs, and he clutched the picture tighter. He kept repeating her name, thinking it couldn't hurt as badly as it did. The pain had to lessen at some point, but honestly … He didn't know if he wanted it to.

The pain meant he was still alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! Please keep them up. This chapter might clear up some questions you may have. **

_Chapter Four_

Eva walked into the kitchen early in the morning. She'd always liked to sleep, until her mom had met that bastard. After he moved in, Eva woke up as early as possible, to get the hell out of the house as soon as she could.

She reached up and scratched her scalp, dark curls frizzy this morning. She walked to the refrigerator, seeing cartons of eggs and gallons of milk, along with big jugs of apple and orange juice. She searched through cabinets until she found the cups and poured herself some apple juice, going to sit back at the table and soak in the silence.

An hour later, one of the boys shuffled into the kitchen, yawning widely. He stopped when he saw Eva sitting there, then reached up and scratched his chest.

"Coffee?"

Eva narrowed her eyes at him, and he yawned again.

"If you're the first one up, you make the coffee."  
"Oh, sorry. I didn't—"  
"It's fine. Now you know."

Eva nodded, and watched as he fixed the coffee. When the machine started percolating, he walked over to the table, sitting down. Eva cleared her throat.

"You're Steven, right?"

He nodded, lifting a hand to push through his dark hair. Eva nodded back, then spoke softly.

"I, uh … I'm friends with your brother."

Steven's head shot up.

"Jason? You know Jason?"

She nodded, and Steven took short, sharp breaths.

"Is he okay?"

Eva nodded again. Steven swallowed, then spoke again.

"Is he … Does our dad h—hit him?"

Eva shook her head, and Steven put his head in his hands, letting out a long breath.

"Oh, thank God."  
"He worries about you."

Steven let out a laugh.

"Well, I worry about him, so…"  
"He said he's going to come find you one day."

Steven smiled, nodding his head.

"I don't doubt it. If anyone would, it'd be Jase."

Eva nodded, and they both glanced over as coffee began filling the pot. Steven cleared his throat.

"Did he tell you about this place?"

Eva nodded.

"He's kept all your letters. Told me everything you told him."

Steven nodded again, blinking back tears.

"Well, I'm glad you found it."

They looked over as another boy walked in, the tall one with dark hair. He smiled and walked over to Steven, leaning over the table and kissing him. He glanced over at Eva, who took another drink from her cup. Steven grabbed onto the other boy's hand.

"She knows Jase."  
"Is he okay?"  
"She said he's fine."

The guy laughed, pulling Steven to his feet, wrapping his arms around him.

"I told you."  
"I know."

Eva smiled, looking back at the tablecloth. Steven started pouring cups of coffee, and the other boy came and sat down beside her.

"I'm Jake. But if you want to call me Abercrombie like everybody else does, that's okay."  
"Why do they call you that?"  
"Because he looks like a damn Abercrombie model. I mean, look at him!"

Jake's cheeks heated up, and Steven laughed as he leaned over and kissed his temple. Eva smiled, looking up as more sleepy people stumbled into the kitchen. Not everyone came to breakfast, which was fine. Not everyone was a morning person, or liked to eat breakfast, so that was the one meal Meredith didn't mind bending her rule over.

Eva leaned over to the girl sitting beside her, both hands around her coffee mug like it was the most precious thing she'd ever held. Her red hair was hanging in her face, and she wore big, black glasses.

"Hey, where uh … Where's Meredith?"

The girl looked over, blinking her dark eyes.

"She doesn't do breakfast much. Alex is a morning person, but Mer likes to sleep in."  
"Oh. I'm Eva."

The girl nodded.

"I remember. Charlie."

Eva nodded, and they both glanced up as the tall, redheaded girl came into the kitchen.

"Where's Alex?"

The boy with all the bruises on his face, the one that had been her shadow since Eva had seen them stood up from the table.

"E, what's wrong?"

She shook her head.

"I need Alex."

She held up a hand when he started to walk forward, wincing as he did, and the boy beside him laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll find him."

Charlie glanced around the room, then spoke quietly.

"Elise, what is it?"

Elise looked from the boy over to Charlie and sighed.

"It's Meredith."

Charlie set her cup on the table.

"Again?"

Elise nodded, and Charlie shook her head.

"But it's been months since the last one."  
"Elise!"

She turned at the quiet whisper, going back to the stairs. They heard her footsteps going up, and a few minutes later, they heard the footsteps coming back down. Elise walked over and kissed the top of … Patrick's head—Eva finally remembered his name—and the other boy came back and set his cup in the sink.

"How about a snowball war?"  
"Here or…?"

He nodded towards Charlie.

"Here. Out back. The snow's probably not going to stop all day."

Charlie stood up, turning back to Eva.

"You should come with us. Snowball wars are epic around here."  
"Maybe in a little while. I'm not exactly awake yet."

Charlie smiled and nodded, setting her cup in the sink as she walked out. Soon, all that was left in the kitchen were Eva, Elise, Patrick, and one girl that Eva couldn't remember her name. That girl walked to the sink, and Patrick went to stand up, wincing and laying a hand over his chest when he did.

"Jackie, you don't have to do that. It's my turn."

Jackie turned around, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Tell you what. When your skin ain't purple no more, you can take my chores for a couple days."

Patrick smiled, nodding his head.

"Thanks."  
"Go lay down. Rest your bones."

He nodded again, and Elise helped him to stand up, then helped him from the room. Jackie shook her head, filling the sink with steaming water.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

Eva lifted her head, dark eyes wide until Jackie glanced over her shoulder. Eva shook her head, looking down at her cup.

"I've never really had somebody who'd listen."

Jackie looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

"I know how that goes."

She squirted some dish soap into the sink, then slid a plate into the water. She grabbed a sponge and began scrubbing, rinsing the plate, then setting it in the drying rack. Eva swallowed, then stood up.

"Do you need some help?"

Jackie smiled when she glanced back.

"Sure, quiet one. You can dry."

They talked some, but mainly just focused on washing and drying the dishes. Hand-washing was nothing Eva was unfamiliar with, and Jackie told her that Meredith told them it was good, healthy work. Keeps their hands busy while clearing their minds. After a while, Elise walked back in, sighing.

"It's a bad one this time."

Eva and Jackie both turned around, and Jackie shook her head as she turned back to the sink.

"Damn it."

Eva looked from Jackie to Elise, then cleared her throat.

"What—what is?"

The older girls exchanged a look, and Jackie sighed.

"Meredith gets … these really bad headaches. Migraines, actually. They'll put her down where she can't even get out of bed. She can't handle light or sound, so Alex actually sound-proofed her room. Down the hall from ours, remember?"

Eva nodded.

"Why does she have such bad migraines?"

Jackie shook her head.

"We don't know."  
"Has she always had them?"  
"We don't know."  
"I mean, did you ask her if—"  
"No, you're not understanding."

Jackie looked over to Elise, who smiled and walked over, taking the dry plates from Eva and setting them in the cabinet. When all the dishes were done and put away, Elise climbed up on the counter.

"Meredith … isn't even her real name. Well, at least we don't think it is."

Eva's brows furrowed, and she looked from Elise to Jackie, then back to Elise.

"What do you mean?"

Elise smiled.

"Alex quite literally stumbled upon her one day. He goes jogging through Central Park a lot, since it's right over there, and one day, he saw this girl sleeping on one of the benches. He woke her up, asked if she was okay, and she couldn't answer him. He asked her name, and she couldn't tell him that, either. So, he helped her up, took her to a hospital."

Elise shook her head, looking down at her hands.

"They did blood tests and CAT scans and all kinds of stuff on her. She's perfectly healthy. No brain tumor or anything like that. She just gets terrible headaches, has a super low body temperature, and no memory."  
"She doesn't remember anything?"

Elise and Jackie both shook their heads. Jackie smiled when she spoke.

"Alex took responsibility for her, told her she could stay here, since she didn't know if she had a home to go to. He took her to a store to get her some clothes and she kept going to this little section that had stuff with initials on it, you know?"

Eva nodded.

"She kept gravitating towards stuff with an 'M' on it, so Alex thought maybe her name started with an 'M.' So, he named her Meredith."

Elise leaned forward then.

"Alex is a huge TV junkie. I mean, it's kind of ridiculous, how many shows he watches. Anyway, there's one about doctors in a hospital, and a couple of the main characters are named Alex and Meredith. So, moral of the story is, Alex is a geek."

Jackie laughed with Elise, and Eva found herself smiling. Jackie pointed towards Elise.

"Hey, did we tell you what happened last week?"

Elise shook her head.

"Alex and Mer took Ricky to some store while we were in school. There were these little monogrammed, like, Swiss Army knives or something. Mer found one with a 'D' on it and went into, like, a trance. She bought it and brought it back with her."  
"A 'D'?"

Jackie nodded.

"So either we were wrong about the 'M' stuff, or maybe her last name starts with a 'D', or maybe that's a brother's name or something?"

Elise pursed her lips and nodded. Eva blinked, then spoke.

"So … She doesn't know anything?"

Elise and Jackie shook their heads.

"She doesn't know who she is or if she has any family. She can't remember where she's from or anything like that. So, she just stuck around here with us. If anybody asks, she just tells them her name is Meredith Donaldson. And Alex goes along with pretty much whatever she says."  
"So … Alex and Meredith. Are they …?"

Jackie closed her eyes, a wide smile on her face while Elise burst into giggles.

"No, silly. Alex is gay."  
"What?!"

Elise and Jackie fell out laughing again, and Elise nodded.

"He doesn't broadcast it, but it's not something to be ashamed of, he says."  
"But they acted like …"  
"Nah, they're just close. He takes care of her, and she takes care of us. They both do."

Eva nodded, mind whirling with the new information. Elise and Jackie exchanged a glance, and Jackie cleared her throat.

"So, quiet one. What brings you here?"

Eva took in a deep breath, then glanced over to Jackie.

"My mom and her boyfriend. I got tired of watching them do drugs, and I just knew that bastard would do something to me, or make me do something to him if I stayed. So, I left."

She shrugged her shoulders, and Elise just blinked. Eva looked from Jackie to Elise.

"What are you doing here?"

Jackie cleared her throat.

"Two years ago, my mom and dad died in a car wreck. I'm an only child, and I don't have any other family. I got shoved into the foster system, and after a horrendous weekend with a foster family, I ran into Alex on the street. He handed me a flyer about this place, and I've been here ever since."

Eva nodded slowly, then looked over to Elise. She smiled, pushing a hand through her red hair.

"My story's a little more complicated than that."

She gave out a sigh, leaning forward to glance out the door.

"You know that guy that's with me all the time?"  
"Patrick?"

Elise nodded at Eva.

"Well, we grew up next door to each other. We always said we'd grow up and get married, and we actually did grow up and fall in love. His dad died when he was eleven, and his mom met this guy over in Little Italy and they got married. But Tony's an abusive SOB, and hits Pat's mom all the time."

Elise looked down at her fingernails as she continued talking.

"Patrick kept telling me that Tony was hitting his mom and he didn't know what to do. He kept telling her that she needs to leave him, but she keeps telling Pat that she 'loves' him."

Elise shook her head.

"That's not love, though. You don't hit the person you love."

She shook her head again.

"Anyway, Patrick had enough a few months ago and told me that either he was leaving or he'd end up killing Tony. He was finally bigger than him, much more muscled up. And when Tony knocked his mom out, Patrick just whaled on him. He finally called the cops, told them what Tony had done, how he'd protected his mom, and they arrested Tony. But Pat's mom bailed him out."  
"What?"

Elise nodded, and Eva sat back with her mouth open.

"She told Pat that Tony was her husband, and she loved him, and he didn't mean to hurt her. But why else would he hit her, you know? So Pat told her he was done trying to protect her. He came to me and said that Tony would end up killing his mom one day, and he couldn't stand around and watch it happen. So he was coming here. And he … He asked me to come with him."

Elise sighed, pushing a hand through her fiery hair.

"I couldn't say no. I mean, I love him so much. And he's all alone. One of his brothers is in the Navy, another's a Marine, and the other one is at MIT. So Pat's by himself, and I couldn't just let him go alone."

Eva blinked.

"So you don't actually need to be here?"

Elise smiled softly.

"My family said we could stay with them. But Pat says it's too close to his mom, and he just can't be that close right now. They understand, and they let me go with him. My dad sends us money and stuff, and he helps Alex out, if he can. My dad's a handyman."

Jackie smiled when Eva looked over to her. Eva glanced at the table, then looked back to Elise.

"What happened to him, though? I mean, he looks like he got the shit beat out of him."

Elise stared down at the ground.

"He did."

Jackie cleared her throat, leaning forward.

"Pat and Elise got here about four months ago. Last week, four guys jumped Pat in the alley when he was walking home from the job Alex helped him get."

Eva's face fell, and Elise spoke up again.

"Tony sent the guys after him, and Pat held his own for a while, but …"

She shook her head.

"His face is beat to hell and he's got a couple of cracked ribs. He tweaked his ankle and knee, but he's doing a lot better. He'll heal up and be back to normal in no time."

Elise smiled.

"We're graduating this year. And Pat says that we can get married and he's taking me to New Mexico. We've never even been out of New York, but he's always wanted to live in the desert."

She shrugged her shoulders, and Eva smiled.

"Sounds like a good plan."

* * *

Late that night, Eva couldn't sleep. She crept out of the room without waking anyone up, which was a trick, considering she slept in a top bunk. She silently made her way downstairs, glancing at the TV room before walking into the kitchen. They'd had leftovers for dinner, and the boys had done the dishes before going to bed.

She walked over to the pantry, looking over everything on the shelves before closing the door. She walked to the refrigerator, taking stock of everything in there as well, going still when a soft voice quietly spoke.

"There's always ice cream in the freezer."

Eva leaned back, seeing Meredith standing in the doorway, wrapped in a thick robe. She had flannel pajamas on, and thick socks on her feet. Her voice was rough and scratchy, and she looked pale. Her hair was mussed, but still somehow looked good. She waved a hand at Eva, rolling her eyes.

"I know I'm a hot mess. Just grab the mint chocolate chip for me and whichever one you want."  
"Oh, I don't—"  
"This is what we buy it for. Times when you can't sleep."

Eva watched Meredith go to the utensils, pulling open the drawer and getting out two spoons. Eva brought a pint of mint chocolate chip over to the table, along with a cookie dough. Meredith squinted her eyes at the carton, then smiled.

"Good choice."

They sat at the table, eating spoonfuls of ice cream in silence, before Eva spoke softly.

"Are you feeling better?"

Meredith hummed quietly.

"It's down to a dull ache now. Not as bad as I've had before, but still not back to normal. I should be fine by lunchtime tomorrow."

Eva nodded, and Meredith smiled.

"So I guess you've heard everything by now."

Eva looked up, meeting the soft blue eyes.

"You really don't know who you are?"

Meredith laughed quietly.

"I know it's hard to believe. But, no. I have no earthly idea of my life before I woke up in Central Park."

She shook her head.

"Alex took me to a hospital, because … well. I couldn't tell him my name or what year it was or who the president is or anything."

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"They say I'm perfectly healthy. We've checked missing persons reports dating back years, and nothing. Their dental records thing here is really messed up, super backed up, but they don't think they could get anything from me, anyway. That's pretty much a last resort."

She took another bite of her ice cream.

"They guess that I'm about twenty-eight or twenty-nine, natural-born American citizen. I'm sure I have a mom and a dad out there somewhere, maybe brothers and sisters. I just have no clue where to start looking for them."

Eva nodded, and Meredith smiled.

"Enough about me. Tell me something about you."

Eva swallowed, looking down at the table.

"Why I'm here, you mean?"  
"If you want. If not, just something to help me get to know you better. What's your favorite subject in school?"

Eva thought for a moment, digging her spoon around the side of her carton.

"Art."  
"Ooh, really?"

Eva nodded.

"Can you draw?"

Eva smiled and nodded.

"I'm better at painting."

Meredith smiled.

"I wish I could paint. You'll have to draw me something or paint something for me."

Eva felt her cheeks flush, but she nodded. She stabbed her spoon into her ice cream, digging out a piece of cookie dough. She stared at it for a while, then took in a breath and let it out slowly.

"I had a dream about my mom."

Meredith didn't say anything, so Eva went on.

"Earlier, I mean. It woke me up and I couldn't go back to sleep."  
"What was it about?"

Eva looked across the table, seeing gentle blue eyes looking back at her. Meredith glanced down at her ice cream, and Eva took in a shaky breath.

"It was a long time ago, when we lived in that rat trap over in Alphabet City. She was tired all the time, but she was happy. She'd put old Selena CDs in the boombox we had and dance around the kitchen with me."

Eva blinked as she stared at her ice cream.

"We were happy. We were poor, but we were happy. Until he came along and ruined everything."

Eva sniffled, shaking her head, and a soft, cool hand reached over and patted hers.

"It's okay, honey."  
"I'm afraid they're going to die if I'm not there."  
"They are not your responsibility, sweetie."  
"She's my mom."

Eva looked up, meeting Meredith's soft eyes.

"She'll always be your mom. But she is her own person. She's made choices, and she has to deal with the consequences of her choices. Just like you. And you're obviously trying to make good choices, since you're here."

Eva nodded, and Meredith lifted her hand, cool fingers wiping the tears from Eva's cheeks.

"It'll be okay."

Eva sniffled and nodded.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Meredith smiled.

"Well, I've slept nearly all day. And I had a weird dream."

Eva nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Meredith's smile grew, and she nodded.

"Okay. I've had this dream a couple of times now, and I have no idea why or what it means. But I'm always outside, either in town or in the park. And I'm always stopped on one side of the street, trying to get across."

Meredith shook her head, and her gaze shifted from Eva, over to the wall as her face went soft, voice quiet.

"The traffic stops, and I look up, and there he is. I don't know who he is, but I've seen him so many times in my dreams. He's tall, with … dirty blonde hair, and green, green eyes. He smiles at me, lifts a hand, and I blink, and he's gone."

She blinked a few times, before she laughed quietly, shaking her head.

"It's crazy, I know."  
"It's not that crazy."

Meredith glanced over, and Eva shrugged her shoulders.

"You don't know who he is?"

Meredith smiled softly, shaking her head.

"No. He seems familiar, for some reason, but …"  
"Maybe he's part of your family."  
"I thought that. But I get … I know this is weird, but dream-me, the one who sees him? I get butterflies."

Eva smiled.

"Maybe not family, then."

Meredith shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. It's just …"

She sighed, shaking her head, looking over to Eva.

"Are you tired?"

Eva shook her head, pushing her empty ice cream carton away from her. Meredith stuck her spoon in her mouth one last time and set the top back on her carton.

"I'm the only one who likes mint chocolate."

She stood up from the table, laying a hand against her forehead and letting out a long breath. She stood up straight, walking to put her ice cream in the freezer, then turning to Eva.

"Want to watch a movie?"


	5. Chapter 5

**At the request of some of my favorite readers (i.e. all of you), here's a chapter from a new perspective. Oh, and remember Sam around SPN's season …7? That might give you a little insight into what's happening here. Not on the level that the show … showed, but slightly like it. Also, thanks so much for the reviews and please keep them up! It warms my little heart to get new emails alerting me to your comments. ;)**

* * *

_Chapter Five_

Meredith smiled as she hung another shiny red ornament on the tree. The kids had gathered all around, back down to ten now, since Mae and Bethany had gone back home. Patrick was feeling much better, as had been evidenced when he helped Alex, Jake, and Steven carry the huge pine tree into the living room.

Meredith glanced around, another smiled crossing her face when she saw the girls on the floor, eating more popcorn than they were stringing together. Eva fit into the group nearly seamlessly, and she was currently sitting Indian-style between Jackie and Charlie, painstakingly pushing a needle through pieces of popcorn. Once she had a good length, she handed the string to Jackie, who rolled the popcorn in glue, then handed it to Charlie, who gleefully coated the pieces in red or green glitter. At least, until Ricky had run in with a can of gold glitter, which made Charlie compare the golden popcorn strings to something either Harry Potter or Star Wars-worthy.

Alex walked over, handing Meredith a mug of hot chocolate, with a candy cane sticking out of it.

"In the spirit of Christmas."

Meredith smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Alex leaned up against the wall beside her, sipping from his own mug. Meredith nodded to him, holding up her cup.

"This is delicious."

Alex winked at her.

"Old family recipe."

Meredith snorted, and Alex let out a laugh.

"All right, you caught me. I found the recipe on the back of the cocoa can."  
"I thought as much."

Meredith smiled as she sipped from her mug again, and Alex wrapped his arm around her. She leaned into him, watching the kids decorate the tree, all of them laughing and tossing popcorn at each other. Tears suddenly came to her eyes, and she blinked widely, sniffling quietly, causing Alex to look down at her.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Meredith shook her head.

"I don't … I don't know."  
"Come on, babe. You're crying."

Meredith reached up and touched her eye. She blinked in astonishment when she saw the wetness on her fingertip. She sniffled, shaking her head. She took in a shaky breath, shaking her head again.

"I … I—"

Meredith shook her head, pushing her mug into Alex's hand as she walked from the room. She stood in the kitchen, gripping onto the counter. She closed her eyes, gasping out a breath as a sweet, high-pitched, musical giggle drifted in and out of her ears.

"Honey—"  
"Don't touch me. Don't …"

Meredith shook her head, stepping away from Alex, who raised his hands and stepped backwards. She lifted a hand to her mouth, shaking her head, not realizing how her entire body was trembling.

"I—I'm missing … I feel like I'm missing something."  
"What?"

Meredith shook her head again, sniffling.

"I don't—I don't know."

She walked over to the table, laying her hands on it, closing her eyes again, as flashes akin to snapshots flew through her mind.

_Dark hair.  
Gentle blue eyes.  
Wide smiles. _

So many different things went through her mind, flashing through like a pinwheel in the breeze. She lifted a hand to her forehead, falling to the ground as her knees gave out. Alex knelt behind her, pulling her back against his chest, and she sobbed as she held onto his arms.

"I keep seeing—things. I don't … I don't know what I'm seeing, but it … It hurts."  
"Mer, shh. It's okay."

She shook her head again, gripping onto Alex, leaning forward.

"It hurts."

Alex let out a breath, reaching over and gently touching her head. She flinched at the gentle touch, letting out a quiet sob. Alex shook his head.

"What can I do?"

His voice was soft, easy. Gentle, the way she had come to recognize he spoke to her whenever she had one of her episodes. She shook her head, letting out a quiet gasp as pain radiated through her skull. She leaned over, resting against Alex, opening her eyes once a feeling of "wrong" settled in.

For the first time since she'd known him, it felt wrong to be in Alex's arms. His hands were too soft, his arms not muscled enough. The smooth, clean smell that surrounded her, that permeated the air around Alex, was off. It wasn't rough enough, not masculine enough. She shook her head, moaning quietly when the pain reverberated through her skull.

"I just …"

She let out a breath, eyes closed, squeezing Alex's hand when he slipped it into hers.

"Tell the … the kids that I … I'm sorry."  
"They'll understand."

Meredith nodded the slightest bit, keeping her eyes closed as Alex stood to his feet. She held up her hand and he helped her to her feet, holding her to his chest when she swayed and let out a quiet groan. He helped her up the stairs, walking into her room and pulling the blackout curtains shut. Meredith went for the bed, sitting down on it, keeping her eyes closed. She let out a shaky breath, and Alex walked over, bending down in front of her.

"You'll be okay?"

Meredith made herself smile.

"Of course. It's Christmas tomorrow. I couldn't … Couldn't miss it."

Alex sighed, nodding his head. He stood up, taking her hand in his.

"You need anything at all—"  
"I know … where to find you. Thank you."

Meredith sighed when she heard the door close. She sat on the bed for a moment, then made herself stand up, shivering once, then slowly making her way to the dresser, where she pulled out a nightgown. Another shiver ran through her body, causing her to moan as pain shot through her head again, and she shoved the nightgown back into the drawer. She pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas, shivering as she undressed and put on the pajamas.

_A black t-shirt with a faded logo of a long-forgotten band, soft from too many washes, holes in the armpits and one at the bottom hem. The smell of cheap laundry detergent, clean sweat, a hint of dark, tangy … something. _

"_That's mine, you know."  
"You want it back?"_

_A sneeze, a quiet groan, a quiet laugh._

"_Yeah, I'll work on taking that back when you're not sneezing your head off every minute."  
"I am not—"_

_Another sneeze, another laugh._

"_Come on. Let's get some rest."  
"You don't want to sleep with me when I'm … Oh, crap. … Nope, false alarm."_

_Another laugh, a gentle squeeze on a hand._

"_I'll always want to sleep with you. Come on, Sneezy."_

Meredith was shaking when she stumbled and fell onto the bed. She clutched the pajama top in her trembling hands, breathing hard. She blinked her eyes, hard, trying to focus on the red numbers glowing 10:42 in the dark.

She hadn't seen much of anything. It had been dark, far too dark than it should have been. The voices had been distorted, unnatural-sounding, but she was almost positive one of them was her own. The whole thing seemed like she'd watched and listened to it underwater.

God, her head felt like someone was driving nails into her skull.

It happened every time something came back to her. Even the faintest hint of a memory sent excruciating pain through her head. She didn't remember much of anything. Just little things that didn't really add up, like pieces of a huge puzzle, all jumbled up together.

She let out a breath, blinking her eyes again, looking back at the clock. 10:45. She lifted her shaking hands and slid the pajama top on, buttoning it up, breathing out as a shiver went through her body once it was on. She slowly crawled under the covers, so as not to bring any more pain to herself, sighing when the heavy blankets settled over her and her head touched the cool, feather-soft pillow.

_Feathers. _

_Black feathers, falling around her like snowflakes._

Meredith groaned as she turned her face into the pillow, tears leaking from her eyes as the pain radiated through her head again. As usual, she prayed that sleep would come, and come soon, unconsciousness the only cure for the pain ripping through her skull.

* * *

She knew it was a dream, because that's the only way Central Park could be as empty as it was right then. No tourists, no joggers, no screaming babies in strollers, no dogwalkers. Meredith blinked as she looked around, going still when she turned back and saw the Alice in Wonderland statue behind her. She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"Back to where it started."

She tugged her coat closer around her. She was even cold in her dreams. And of course, she couldn't dream of somewhere warm, somewhere beachy and close to the Equator. No, she dreams of freakin' New York City in the heart of winter.

She let out a sigh, shaking her head, standing up and walking towards Alice. She ran her hand over the top of the Mad Hatter's hat, smiling softly when a quote came back to her, one Alex had told her once when they were trying to figure out who she was and where she'd come from.

"_If you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there."_

Meredith sighed, dropping her hand from the statue, looking up and going still.

The man she'd seen so many times before was standing on the other side of the statue. She took in a breath, laying a hand over her stomach as she took slow, deliberate steps around the statue. He smiled at her, holding out his hand when she reached him. She swallowed, reaching out and laying her hand in his. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, while she just blinked at him. He let out a quiet, rough laugh, holding her hand in his as he began slowly walking away from the statue, towards the frozen pond. Meredith shook her head, looking back at the statue.

"Where are we going?"

He just smiled, walking slow enough that she could keep up, staying close to her in the cold. They walked away from the statue, away from the pond, up to the edge of the park, where the stillness is broken and the city comes to life again.

Meredith stayed close to him, following just a step behind, clinging to his hand. They made it up to the road, stopping at a light. Meredith glanced around with wide eyes. Not a single car drove by.

Definitely a dream.

He turned to face her, reaching up and cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her eyes drifted closed at the feel of his calloused hands on her skin, a strange smell permeating the air. Nothing bad or dangerous, but something familiar, something she knew, but couldn't place. She blinked her eyes open, and his voice was rough and deep when he spoke.

"Soon."

She blinked, staring up into emerald green eyes.

"What?"  
"Soon."

She shook her head.

"What does that mean?"

He gave her a smile, rubbing his thumbs just under her cheekbones. She shook her head again, and he leaned forward. She watched him, as he kept leaning in, and she closed her eyes when his lips were a centimeter from hers. She could feel his breath on her face …

As her eyes opened to the complete darkness of her bedroom.

* * *

Meredith couldn't sleep once she woke up from her dream. She stayed in bed for as long as she could stand it, then went downstairs to start on Christmas morning breakfast. Flour was sifted into a large bowl, and milk and eggs were added in. Meredith smiled when she grabbed a bag of chocolate chips from the cabinet, shaving pieces off a candy cane and adding that in as well. She slowly cooked the pancakes until they were perfectly golden, then walked back to the refrigerator. She pulled out cartons of eggs, along with peppers, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, and cheese. Sausage links and bacon were added to different pans, and Meredith smiled when she heard the first set of quiet footsteps on the stairs.

"Mer? What are you doing up so early?"

Meredith turned around, smiling widely at Alex.

"Couldn't sleep last night."  
"Too excited for Christmas?"

She snorted.

"Yeah, sure."

Alex laughed to himself, then walked over to the coffeepot letting out a moan of appreciation.

"You're a goddess."  
"Special Christmas blend."

Alex made happy noises as he sipped from his mug, and Meredith smiled as she turned the bacon. She put the oven on a low temperature, sliding the pancakes in to keep them warm until everyone woke up.

"Can I make your official title 'Chef Meredith'?"

She let out a quiet laugh.

"Sure. I like the cooking."  
"And you do such a good job at it."  
"Will it get me a raise?"

Alex barked out a laugh.

"Sure, baby. As big as you want it."

Meredith laughed, and Alex walked over, kissing her forehead and laying a wrapped box on the counter.

"Merry Christmas."  
"Alex."

She looked up to him, blue eyes wide.

"We said no presents!"

He shrugged his shoulders, and she shook her head, turning the burners off, moving the sausage and bacon to separate plates. She smiled as she carefully opened the gift, taking in a breath, looking up to him with a smile.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"All the kids got one too, so… Don't let them see."  
"You're a good man, Alex Donaldson."

He waved her off, then took her in his arms. When he let her go, turning back for his coffee, she rolled her fingers over her new iPod.

"You got all ten kids one of these?"  
"And an iTunes gift card."

At the look on Meredith's face, Alex let out a laugh.

"What, would you rather they steal the radio like they're prone to do?"

Meredith shuddered and shook her head, and Alex laughed.

"What are you going to put on it?"

Meredith touched the screen again, shaking her head as she let out a laugh.

"For some reason, I … I want to say Led Zeppelin."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Ser … Seriously?"

Meredith shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head again. She whispered to herself, so low Alex couldn't even hear.

"AC/DC, Black Sabbath, the Stones."

She let out a low laugh, lifting a hand to her forehead. Alex's hand was a warm weight on her shoulder, and she leaned into him for just a moment before she stood up straight again, putting her gift on the counter.

"Thank you. You shouldn't have gotten me anything."  
"I wanted you to have it. You do so much for me, and for the kids …"

Meredith's smile went warm, and she turned back to Alex, reaching up and laying a cool hand against his cheek.

"I'm happy to. They're good kids, and you … I owe you everything."  
"You don't owe me anything, Mer."  
"You saved my life, Alex. I never would have made it on my own. If you hadn't found me …"

She shook her head.

"And you took me in and gave me a home when you knew nothing about me. Hell, I don't even know anything about me."

She let out a quiet laugh, dropping her hand from his face. Alex smiled.

"Well, we know you like mint chocolate chip ice cream."

Meredith laughed.

"We do know that."  
"And there aren't many foods you don't like. You like old music, books of any kind, and you're a fantastic chef."  
"Cook. 'Chef' implies some sort of training."

Alex smiled, and Meredith let out a quiet laugh when she saw his face.

"And I'm chock-full of useless information like that."  
"Hey, that's not useless. I had no idea of the connotation behind 'chef' and 'cook.' You educate me on things."

Meredith rolled her eyes with a smile on her face, and she walked back to the stove.

"Do you want an omelet? I'm feeling adventurous this morning."

Alex grinned.

"Absolutely."

* * *

"Hey Mer, what's your favorite song?"

Meredith pursed her lips as she tapped her foot on the floor.

"That is a tough call. What's yours?"

Ricky smiled.

"_Living La Vida Loca."_

Meredith let out a laugh, and Ricky's smile grew.

"Yes! I wanted to make you laugh."  
"Well, you succeeded. Very good."

Meredith smiled as she leaned over and patted Ricky's leg.

"But seriously."

Meredith shook her head.

"I honestly don't know if I have a favorite song. Not just one, anyway. There are so many amazing songs out there, songs from years ago that are just downright incredible. I mean, have you ever listened to _Stairway to Heaven_? Led Zeppelin's best song, hands down. Or _Sweet Child of Mine_? The guitar in that is amazing. _Piano Man_, by Billy Joel. It's … I can't even put into words."

Ricky blinked wide, dark eyes at her, and Meredith smiled.

"If you like gentle, melodic songs, go for James Taylor. Hard, in your face rock, look up AC/DC. Oh, you want to hear some crazy awesome songs? Queen. And Meat Loaf! I love him."

Ricky's eyes were huge.

"'Meat Loaf'? There's a band called Meat Loaf?"  
"Actually, it's just one guy."

Ricky nodded slowly, and Meredith laughed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't feel like you have to stick with one genre. Give it all a chance. There's a ton of great country songs, from the '60s and '70s to now. Even rockabilly stuff from the '50s is good. And Elvis. Oh man, Elvis."

"_You can't go wrong with the King."_

Meredith went still, looking behind her, but seeing the room empty.

"Mer? You okay?"

She looked to Ricky, eyes wide.

"Wh—what?"  
"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Meredith blinked, shaking her head.

"No, I … I thought I … heard something."

Ricky raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. He had a list made out, of everything she'd been telling him.

"So … What else?"

Meredith glanced at his list, smiling at the messy handwriting.

"You want to listen to a band that absolutely changed the face of music forever? The Beatles. There's this one … one song that they …"

She went quiet at that, sitting back against the couch. She lifted her arms to cross over her chest, drawing her legs up.

"Mer?"  
"I'm cold."

Ricky popped up from the couch, walking over and grabbing a thick blanket, draping it over her. She closed her eyes, and Ricky glanced around the room.

"Do I need to get Alex?"

Meredith nodded shakily, and Ricky walked out of the room. He came back in a minute later, following behind Alex, who hurried and knelt in front of Meredith.

"Honey? Hey."  
"I can't …"

She shook her head, and Alex let out a breath.

"Shit, it's relentless now."  
"What is?"

Alex blew out a breath as he looked up to Ricky.

"She's remembering things. It's painful for her, and we don't know why."  
"Did I do this?"

Alex smiled, standing to his feet.

"No, buddy."  
"But we were talking about music, and she just shut down. She said I need to listen to the Beatles, and that was it."  
"The Beatles?"

Ricky nodded, and Alex motioned towards the kitchen.

"Tell Jackie she's in charge of supper. Don't bug her, and tell Devon his hour on the computer is coming to a close."  
"I'm next, right?"  
"Yeah, bud, you're next."

Ricky smiled and nodded, grabbing his notepad and running towards the kitchen. Alex waited until he was gone and knelt in front of Meredith.

"Talk to me, Mer."  
"I can't. I can … barely hear y—you."  
"What do you hear?"  
"Hu—Humming."  
"Do it for me."

Meredith had her eyes closed, a look of pain on her face. Alex's hands were warm on hers, and she gripped him tightly. She let out a shaky breath, then quietly hummed for him, matching the sounds pounding through her brain. She ended with a gasp, and Alex stood up, maneuvering her around on the couch, getting her in his lap, head on his shoulder, hand fisted in his shirt. The heavy blanket was still around her, Alex made sure of it, and she was still trembling in his arms.

"Easy, baby."  
"Alex."  
"It's _Hey Jude_. That's what you're hearing. It's all right, Mer."  
"It's so loud."  
"It should be over soon."

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It won't stop. It just keeps repeating. Like it's on a loop."  
"I don't know how to stop it, baby."

Tears leaked from her eyes, and she let out a quiet sob.

"What does it mean? Why won't it stop?"  
"Shh, baby. I don't know. Try and relax."

A sudden blast of loud music made both Meredith and Alex jump. The blast was quickly turned down, and just as quickly followed by an apology.

"So—sorry! Sorry, I didn't—I didn't know the volume was all the way up."

Meredith closed her eyes, leaning into Alex, smiling when they heard the cackle. Alex laid a hand over Meredith's ear, pressing her other into his chest.

"Not funny, Devon!"  
"Sorry! But it was pretty funny."

Alex shook his head, a fond smile on his face. He glanced down, and Meredith had a soft smile on her face, sliding the button on his pocket into and out of its hole. Alex murmured quietly, and Meredith rested her head against his chest.

"You okay?"

She nodded slowly.

"It stopped. I'm sorry that I—"  
"Hush. It's fine. The kids understand."

Meredith nodded again, and Alex pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"How's the head?"

Meredith held up a hand, shaking it slightly, making Alex smile.

"So-so?"

She nodded, and he did the same.

"That's a good sign. Think you could eat some Christmas dinner with us?"

She nodded again, smiling up at him.

"It'll be a while before it's done. I gave Jackie the menu and all, but…"  
"If anybody can do it, she can. But I know she'd like your help."

Meredith sighed, sitting up. She held a hand to her forehead for a moment, soaking in the feel of Alex's warm hand sliding up and down her back. She opened her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Alex tilted his head to the side, keeping up his rhythm of rubbing her back.

"Hey, Mer. Did you ever figure out what you were missing yesterday?"

Meredith smiled.

"A birthday."  
"Yours? On Christmas?"

She shook her head.

"No, not … Not mine. But someone's."

She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Someone important."  
"But you don't know who?"

Meredith shook her head, sighing. Alex smiled, nodding his head.

"It'll come."  
"You think so?"  
"I know so, baby. Come on."

Alex stood up, holding out a hand that Meredith took. He helped her to her feet, albeit slowly, and he patted her back again when they were upright.

"Let's show these kids how a real Christmas is done."


	6. Chapter 6

**Since this chapter is noticeably much shorter than the others, I decided to give you a double portion today. I expect extra-long reviews in exchange for this! ;) Not really. Do what you want. But thanks for reading. :)**

* * *

_Chapter Six_

Dean had stopped keeping track of the days. It's not like he really needed to, since Kate reminded him what day it was every day. She'd come into the sunroom with a cup of coffee for him, telling him what day it was before taking a seat in his lap and studying the watch on his wrist, since he was helping her learn how to tell time.

Once he'd finished his coffee and they'd had another lesson on what the big-and-little-hands on the clock did, she'd head off to kindergarten. Dean drove her on Wednesdays, then dropped Sam off at the college for his early class. After everyone had been deposited at their respective schools, Dean would come back to the Manor to smoke a cigarette before he went to work in the garage with Leo. There was no smoking in Baby.

At lunchtime every day, Leo would gently pull Dean away from whatever he was working on, walking him inside to a lunch Piper had fixed for them. After lunch, Leo would read the paper and Dean would have a smoke in the backyard, and they'd go back to work until it was time to pick Kate and Sam back up again.

Sam and Peyton had some childbirth class or something on Thursday nights, and Kate and Dean had a long-standing Monday night date to watch some dancing show Kate was enamored with. Tuesdays and Fridays, Dean would be either a bouncer or a bartender at P3, whatever the twins needed him to be that week. Saturday was usually pizza night, and a fairly good crowd of Halliwells would show up at the Manor for "game night." Sam dominated Scrabble, Peyton had a knack for Battleship, and Dean could kick anyone's ass at Yahtzee.

It was weird as hell, the routine they'd settled into, but it was comforting.

* * *

Christmas came sooner than Dean expected. Kate had been running around for weeks, telling anyone who'd listen how many days were left until Christmas, since "Christmas is also my birthday, you know." It was a mass exodus to the mall when Kate's countdown reached single digits, and this year's picture with Santa included Wyatt too, since Kate wouldn't let go of him when they reached "Santa's Workshop" in the middle of the mall. She didn't really trust bearded men. Well, except for Dean now.

Dean tried not to think about how it would have been his second "real" Christmas as someone's husband.

On Christmas Eve, Dean stood in the living room, staring at the gigantic tree that was nearly too tall. It almost touched the ceiling, "kinda like Sam," Dean had cracked, getting a bitchface from his brother and a giggle fit from Peyton. He had a cup of hot cocoa in his hands, mixed with a little dollop of peppermint Schnapps from Henry. He smiled, taking another sip before he spoke.

"Katie, what are you doing?"

Little legs stretched out underneath the tree, encased in white tights and sparkly red shoes. Her Dorothy shoes, she called them, since _The Little Mermaid _obsession had dwindled, making room for an equally epic obsession for _The Wizard of Oz_. A furry butt lay next to the little legs, with a tail that constantly wagged from side to side.

"Looking at the lights. It was Ariel's idea."

Dean laughed to himself.

"Oh, was it?"

Kate nodded vigorously, lifting her hands to rest against her belly, fingers skating along the satin material of her red dress. Dean sighed, finishing his cocoa, walking over and letting out a quiet groan as he knelt down.

"I'm too old for this sh—… stuff."

Kate giggled, and Dean laid down beside her, nose nearly brushing the needles of the low branch near his face. Kate reached over, settling her little hand in his, and Dean blinked.

"Wow. You're right."  
"Told ya."

They just lay there for a while, staring up at the lights, until Dean let out a sigh.

"I can't believe you're going to be six tomorrow."  
"I knew you didn't forget!"

Dean laughed, squeezing her hand.

"I could never forget you, sweet girl."  
"Did you get me a present?"  
"Hello? Aren't I the favorite uncle? Of course I got you a present."

Kate giggled, scooting closer to him. She took in a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh.

"I wish Aunt Melinda could be here."

Dean swallowed, but forced himself to smile.

"Me too, kid."

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Kate's hair.

"She'd be right here with us."  
"It was really her idea to lay under the tree. We did it last year."

Dean smiled.

"Oh, I remember that now. The tree almost fell on you two!"

Kate rolled right up next to him, her whole body shaking as she giggled.

"You and Uncle Sam had to save us!"

Dean shook his head, letting out a laugh at the memory. The dog let out a bark, and Dean and Kate both laughed.

"Hey Dean, there's a phone—What are you doing?"

Dean and Kate poked their heads up, seeing Sam standing in the doorway, a puzzled look on his face. They spoke in the same voice.

"Lights!"

Sam shook his head, holding out the phone.

"Phone for you. It's Bobby."

Dean groaned as he stood up, and Sam lifted Kate from the floor, holding her above his head while the dog bounced around his feet, barking at him while Kate held her arms out and giggled.

"Hello?"  
_"Merry Christmas, son."_

Dean smiled.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Bobby. How are ya?"

A grunt sounded over the phone, and Dean smiled.

"Yeah, same here."  
_"You doing all right?"_

Dean glanced down at his hand, at the ring he could not take off.

"I'm still here."

He could almost see Bobby nodding.

"_Same here."_

Dean stepped out onto the front porch, sliding his hand in his pocket at the coolness of the night.

"Everything okay?"

There was a pause before Bobby's voice filled the line again.

"_Yeah. Yeah, fine."  
_"You sure?"

Bobby let out a laugh.

"_Just waiting on some information."  
_"Information on what? Not a hunt."  
_"A hunt for what? There's nothing _to_ hunt, ya idjit."_

Dean laughed.

"Yeah, I know."  
"Uncle Dean, it's present time!"

Dean turned around, nodding at Kate, holding the phone towards her and flipping it to speakerphone.

"Tell Uncle Bobby Merry Christmas."

Kate's mouth opened in a little "O".

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Bobby! You know it's my birthday tomorrow?"  
_"How could I forget? Check the mail, shortstop."_

Kate cheered, skipping back into the living room. Dean shook his head, turning the speakerphone off.

"Well, I better go."  
_"Yeah. We'll catch up soon."  
_"Sam's got a pretty long break before he starts back. Maybe we can make a trip up to Sioux Falls."  
_"Well, there's always a place for you, if you decide to make the trip."_

Dean smiled.

"Thanks, old man. Merry Christmas."  
_"You too, Dean. Merry … Merry Christmas."_

Dean smiled as he ended the call, shaking his head at the odd feeling settling between his shoulder blades. He walked back inside, smiling when Kate walked up, taking his hand and giving it a tug. He knelt down, and she leaned forward, whispering to him.

"Aunt Paris' boyfriend is here."  
"He is?"

Kate nodded.

"In the kitchen."

Dean scooped Kate into his arms, holding a hand at the dog, who laid down, resting her head on her paws.

"Good girl."

Dean carried Kate into the dining room, standing back at the door. There was a crowd of people there, but he didn't see Paris. Kate shook her head, leaning in to whisper to him again.

"_Kitchen_."  
"Oh."

Dean carried Kate into the kitchen, where they both sucked in a gasp when they saw Paris in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man. They sprang apart, hands flying to their mouths. Dean coughed to cover up his laughter, then shot his hand up to cover Kate's mouth.

"Sorry. Excuse us."  
"Are you one of the cousins?"

Dean blinked at the unexpected twang of his voice. It was understated, almost a background effect. He shook his head, putting a smile on his face.

"No, I'm—"  
"He _is_ a cousin, by marriage. This is Dean."

The man nodded slowly, as understanding lit his face.

"Right. Paris has told me about you. Ridge Benjamin."

He held out a hand, and Dean shook it. Ridge turned to Kate, a wide smile crossing his face.

"And this little sweetheart must be Katherine."  
"Kate."

Dean and Paris exchanged a smile. Ridge nodded.

"Kate, then. Did Paris tell me right? Tomorrow is your birthday?"

Kate looked wide eyes to Dean, who smiled at her. Dean nodded, and Kate gave Ridge a tiny smile before tucking her face into Dean's neck. Dean lifted a hand to gently pat her back, smiling at Ridge and Paris before he carried Kate out of the kitchen.

* * *

The Manor was packed full of people. Piper and Leo, of course. Wyatt and Kate. Chris and Bianca. Sam and Peyton, Phoebe and Coop, Paris and Ridge. Paige and Henry, Matt, Anna, and Jenny.

And Dean.

At least he had the dog sticking by him.

Kate had passed out shortly after present time, the excitement of the day and the anticipation for tomorrow finally catching up with her. After Wyatt put her to bed, the rest of the crowd dwindled, until it was only the people who lived in the Manor left. Chris and Bianca went to their room, Piper and Leo to theirs, Wyatt to his. Dean stood in front of the tree, basking in the lights that filled the dark room with a soft glow.

He blinked when the dog switched sides on him, and a soft body snuggled up to his side.

"Isn't it crazy to think that we'll have a little one running around with Kate next year?"

Dean blinked, then looked down at Peyton.

"Holy crap."  
"You hadn't realized?"

Dean shook his head, and Peyton let out a quiet laugh. She moved a hand to rest against her belly, jumping the slightest bit when the baby kicked her hand. She let out another laugh, and Dean smiled, tightening his grip on her.

"I miss her, Peyton."

She closed her eyes, turning to wrap her arms around him.

"I do too, Dean."  
"Do they have Christmas in Heaven? Or wherever she …"

He swallowed, and Peyton let out a breath.

"Yeah. I think … I think they do."

Dean nodded, closing his eyes at her whispered statement.

"They have to."

* * *

A few days before New Year's, a knock sounded at the front door of the Manor. Dean went and answered it, eyes opening wide in surprise.

"Bobby?"

The older man gave a sigh, shaking his head.

"Son, we've got to talk."


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

Sam and Peyton joined Dean in the kitchen, sitting at the table after saying hello to Bobby. Cups of coffee sat in front of everyone—well, Peyton was drinking tea—and Bobby did a double-take when Dean refused the hefty dollop of whiskey Bobby usually added to his cup. The older man kept taking his hat off, running his hand over his hair, shaking his head. Peyton exchanged a glance with Sam, gently rubbing her hand over her belly. Bobby finally took in a breath, letting it out slowly.

"I've got this friend. Old hunting buddy, Greg Callman."  
"Greg Allman? Of the Allman Brothers?"

Bobby looked over to Dean and let out a sigh.

"Callman, son. With a 'C.'"

Dean sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. Bobby sighed again.

"Anyway, Greg's a truck driver, stays up in the New England area. I think you boys might have run into him a time or two. He knew your daddy."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, then shrugged their shoulders. Bobby nodded, then went on.

"Ain't nothing for him to hunt in his off-time anymore, so he's been doing a little sightseeing."

Sam and Dean gave him a look, and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Shut up."

Dean let out a laugh, and Bobby shook his head.

"He gave me a call a few weeks back. A couple months ago, actually. He, uh … he went to New York City, just to piss around. And he, uh … He …"

Bobby took his hat off again, rubbing his hand over his head. Peyton looked to Sam, then sat up straighter.

"He what, Bobby?"

Bobby blew out his breath, letting out a laugh.

"I told him there wasn't no way. No way in hell it could be true. But Greg insisted. He's got good eyes, and he … He knew."  
"Knew what, Bobby?"

Bobby grabbed his cup, draining it. He hissed out a breath, then glanced up, letting out another breath.

"He swore he saw Melinda."

Everyone in the room went still and silent. No one even breathed. Not until the coffee mug in Dean's hand shattered. He looked down, at the coffee and blood staining his hand, and he stood up, going to the sink, picking bits of porcelain from his skin. Peyton finally shook her head, pushing back from the table.

"What … is the matter with you, Bobby? How could you …?"

Peyton shook her head.

"She died. You know that she—and you come in here saying … No. Get out."  
"Honey, listen. I know."

He reached out for Peyton, and she flinched away from him. Sam laid a hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing up and down, and she curled her arms around her stomach, shaking her head. Dean swallowed hard, and Bobby sighed before he spoke again, quietly.

"I thought the same thing. And I told Greg that she …"

Bobby cleared his throat.

"But he insisted. Swore that it was her."

Bobby shook his head.

"Greg's a persistent bastard. He went back a couple weeks later. Called me again, swore he saw her. I called him a son of a bitch, told him he's just trying to fuck with me, and he … He swore he's not. And I know Greg. He's a good guy, and he wouldn't …"

He blew out his breath.

"He went again last month, and he didn't bother calling me that time. And I got this in the mail."

Bobby held up a manila envelope, addressed to him, and he tossed it on the table. He tapped it with his finger, then sighed again. He picked the envelope up, opened it, and slid the contents into his hand.

"You tell me."

Bobby set pictures on the table, different angles, all focused on the same woman. Peyton pushed away from the table, changing places with Dean, going to the sink while he went to the table. She shook her head, letting out gasping sobs. Sam walked over to her, standing behind her, catching her easily when her knees gave out. Peyton shook her head, grasping onto his shirt as they slid to the floor.

"Easy, baby. Easy."  
"It can't—it can't be her, Sam. How could … It can't be."  
"Shh, breathe, honey. Breathe."

He glanced at the table, to see Dean standing over the pictures, studying them. Sam recognized the look on his face, felt as much as saw his brother slip away, while the clinically cold, calculating hunter took his place.

"New York City?"

Bobby nodded, and they all watched as Dean strode from the room. Sam stood up, helping Peyton to her feet. She nodded at him, and Sam jogged after his brother. Peyton walked over to the table, sucking in a breath when she looked at the images before her.

There were five of them, taken at different angles, on different days. She was smiling in all of them. One picture showcased her crystal blue eyes. Another showed her profile, the flawless skin with a natural blush, her long eyelashes. Another showed her pushing a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. Peyton lifted a shaky hand to touch that one, speaking softly.

"Her hair's shorter."

Bobby nodded, and a smile crossed Peyton's face as her fingers brushed across the picture, touching the hair that barely brushed Melinda's chin. Peyton's eyes filled with tears.

"I always told her she'd look good with short hair."

She reached out and collapsed into a chair, putting her head in her hands and sobbing. Bobby walked over and knelt beside her, and Peyton shook her head.

"How could she … How could she be alive and not here? Why didn't she—why didn't she come to us?"  
"I don't know, honey."  
"Six months. She's been alive all this time, and she never once tried to contact us?"

Bobby let out a breath and Peyton shook her head, covering her face as the tears came again.

* * *

Piper sat at the kitchen table, photos spread out in front of her, one hand over her mouth, head slowly shaking from side to side. She glanced up when she heard a thump, a second before Dean walked into the room. He looked at the table, then looked away, pain written on his face for a moment, as his hand reached up to touch the bumps under his shirt. He cleared his throat, speaking softly.

"Flight leaves at seven-thirty tonight."  
"Flight?"

Dean brought his eyes to Piper's and nodded.

"Quickest way to get to New York."

Piper's dark eyes were wide as she blinked a few times, before looking down at the table again and nodding. Dean let out a breath, then quietly cleared his throat. Piper looked back up to him, and he stared at his wedding ring while he spoke.

"We thought maybe just Sam, Peyton, and I right now. To see what's going on. Get some answers before everyone goes … or we bring her home."

Piper nodded.

"As much as I want to go, I think that would be best. She's closest with the three of you, so …"

Piper let out a humorless laugh as she pushed her hands through her dark hair, looking up to Dean with tears in her eyes.

"I just want to know what's going on here. It's been six damn months, and she hasn't even tried to call us? Has she been in New York this whole time? Why didn't she come home?"

Piper shook her head.

"What if she's hurt? Or if she doesn't …"

She sniffled, covering her mouth with her hand before she sniffed again, blinking her eyes and straightening her shoulders.

"You get me some answers, okay?"

Dean nodded.

"And you tell her that I love her."  
"I will."

Piper nodded.

"Okay then."

* * *

Dean white-knuckled the arm rest the entire flight. Sam stared out the window, and Peyton only threw up twice. They'd managed to snag a non-stop flight, and landed in New York a little after one in the morning. At Peyton's plea, they checked into a hotel, deciding to get as much rest as they could, then get up early to meet with Greg, who Bobby had alerted.

But Dean couldn't sleep.

It didn't come as a surprise to him. He thought about blaming that on the fact that his body was still on San Francisco time, but that was bullshit. He also thought about going out, finding a bar somewhere and sliding back into old habits, but something told him that he wouldn't find her in a bar. And that was the only reason he wanted to go out, anyway.

How the fuck had he not realized she was alive?

He laid on his back in the single bed in his room, staring up at the ceiling. He'd started out trying to make shapes and objects out of the cracks, the way Melinda used to, but it had grown too dark for that. The traffic sounds from outside were soothing to him, in a way, but they didn't help his racing mind.

She was alive.

And he could barely breathe.

His heart was beating erratically, the same way it had shortly after he realized the implications of what had really happened in that Kansas graveyard.

Now, though, it was for a different reason.

Dear God, it hurt. The pressure in his chest hit all of a sudden, taking his breath away. He tried to sit up in the bed, and he couldn't. Tears poured from his eyes as he gasped for breath, and he suddenly knew that this was how he was going to die. With Melinda just out of reach, and by a goddamn heart attack.

"Dean? Christ, man."

Dean gasped as he blinked his eyes at the sudden rush of light. Sam knelt beside the bed, taking Dean's wrist in one of his huge hands.

"Shit, your heart is racing. Try and calm down."

Dean shook his head, and Sam sighed.

"I know, okay? I get it. But Mel will kill you if you die before we find her again. Take a breath in."

Dean let out a gasping sob, and Sam nodded his head.

"I know it hurts. You're having a panic attack. Try and calm down for me, Dean."

Sam helped him sit up, and Dean gasped some more, giving in to the weakness and leaning against his brother. Sam put an arm around him and Dean blinked through the tears, finally able to speak.

"What … if … it's not … her?"

Sam let out a sigh.

"It's got to be. She doesn't have a twin. The pictures … It's got to be her."  
"But what if … it's not?"

Sam swallowed.

"Then we'll know for sure that she's gone and we can't get her back."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, and Sam tightened his grip on him.

"Don't put the cart before the horse, Dean."

Dean blinked his eyes open, staring at the wall across from him. He finally sat up, leaning away from Sam's embrace, and Sam moved over in the bed.

"Better?"

Dean nodded, wiping his eyes with his wrist. Sam reached out, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Don't go chasing waterfalls, okay?"

Dean snorted, and Sam's face broke out into a smile, dimples shining. Dean shook his head, shrugging Sam's hand off.

"You're such a girl."

Sam let out a laugh.

"Get some sleep, all right? Greg wants to meet at seven, which will only be five California time."

Dean nodded.

"Thanks, Sammy."  
"Anytime, man."

* * *

Seven did come early, much too soon for the bodies that were still on California time. Dean never did go to sleep, and was sipping a cup of coffee in the hotel lobby when Sam and Peyton made their way down. Sam had a scarf around his neck, which made Dean realize they were in New freakin' York in late-December. He sighed, zipping up his jacket, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hey."

He glanced over to see Peyton holding out a pair of gloves. He met her eyes, and she smiled.

"I figured you probably packed on autopilot, so I grabbed these for you."

Dean nodded, taking the gloves and slipping them on.

"Thanks."

Peyton smiled, laying a hand against her swollen belly. Sam navigated them to the subway, and they rode in silence to Brooklyn, where Greg was holed up in a diner. They recognized him right away, from the description Bobby had given them. Short, barrel-chested man with black hair and a black mustache. He wore a trucker hat on his head, and half of his ring finger on his left hand was missing. He was hunched over a cup of coffee, glancing up when the bells over the door of the diner jingled. He let out a laugh, shaking his head, getting to his feet.

"Shit, John knew how to grow 'em, didn't he?"

Peyton smiled at the thick New England accent, and Greg held out his hand.

"Greg Callman."

Dean reached over, shaking the man's hand.

"Dean. This is my brother Sam, his fiancé, Peyton."  
"She know what she's getting into with a Winchester?"

Peyton smiled as she laid her hand in Greg's.

"She does. Obviously."

Peyton laid her hands on her belly, and Greg smiled.

"Well, it's nice to meet you all."

Greg motioned to the table, and they all took a seat. Sam and Peyton ordered coffee and hot cocoa, but Dean just waved the waitress away. Greg nodded his head, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Well, let's talk about what you came here for."

He pulled a folder from his bag, sliding it across the table. Dean just stared at it, running his hand along his bearded chin, and Peyton reached a shaking hand over and picked it up. She took in a breath and opened it, pulling out a photo.

It was a full-body shot of her, the woman with the short honey-blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. She was bundled up, much like she'd been in every other photo, with a thick scarf around her neck and a long coat. In this picture, she was looking right at the camera.

Peyton set the picture down on the table, rubbing her hand over her lips. Sam took the folder from her and slid more papers out of it, more photos, reading over a page before he lifted his gaze to Greg. Greg nodded at him, letting out a sigh before he spoke.

"From what I was able to gather, her name's Meredith Donaldson. She lives and works at Carly's House, which is a shelter over near Broadway. You won't find the place unless you're looking for it."

He motioned to Sam, who flipped through the other pages, stopping at Greg's signal on a picture of a tall man with light brown hair.

"This guy owns the shelter."  
"He looks familiar."

Greg nodded to Peyton.

"He should. That's Alex Donaldson."  
"_The_ Alex Donaldson?"

Greg nodded again.

"One of the richest sons of bitches on this planet. Guy's got more money than God, and he runs a homeless shelter."  
"And she works with him?"

Greg nodded to Sam, taking a long sip from his coffee.

"I wasn't able to find out much more about her. Either Donaldson's money is keeping mouths closed, or there's nothing else to tell."  
"There's a shit-ton more to tell."

Peyton laid her hand on Dean's shoulder, and he let out a breath, hanging his head for a moment. When he'd composed himself, he looked to Greg again.

"You said her name was Meredith?"

Greg nodded.

"Is she married to this guy?"

Greg sighed.

"That's where my sources dried up. She's using his last name, so one can only assume …"

Greg waved his hand and Dean closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand as he stared at the picture. Peyton kept running her fingers over the photo's edge, and Sam kept stealing glances at it, unable to fully read a sentence on the page he was holding. Sam cleared his throat, and Greg's dark gaze landed on him.

"So this Carly's House."

Greg nodded.

"Donaldson had a sister who wound up on the wrong side of the streets. Wrong crowd, drugs, pimps. She died when he was … seventeen, maybe? Anyway, once he'd made something of himself, he opened the shelter. It's for runaways, messed-up teenagers, kids with nowhere else to go. Kids like his sister."

Peyton nodded, blinking back tears. If what Greg was saying was true, then it was no wonder Melinda had found her way there. Peyton sniffled, soaking in the warmth of Sam's arm he slid around her. She lifted her eyes to Greg.

"Does the place have an address?"

Greg sighed, pulling a toothpick from his pocket and slipping it in his mouth.

"All mail goes to one of Donaldson's offices. P.O. boxes or some shit. You honestly will not be able to find this place unless you're looking for it. It's hidden in an alley between Broadway and Central Park. Carved into the stone of the building is 'Carly's House,' and that's the only way you can distinguish it. If you ask directions to it, nobody will know what you're talking about."  
"What is the point of that?"

Dean and Greg spoke at the same time, answering Sam's question.

"Anonymity."

Greg nodded at Dean.

"Place is hidden so that pretty much word of mouth is the only way to find it. Kids can slip in and out without anyone noticing, really, and adults have to have a damn good reason to even get near the door. Cameras are hidden all around the block, and security's always watching, set back in the shadows a few doors down. Donaldson's damn serious about protecting the kids."

They all nodded, and Sam lifted his head from one of the papers from the folder to look at his brother. Dean met his eyes, then looked back down to the photo. Peyton lifted her head, meeting Greg's eyes.

"Can you tell us how to get there?"

Greg sighed.

"I can point you in the right direction, but I've got to get on the road. Look, if you get lost, just keep walking. If you hit Central Park, you've gone too far. Turn back. If the lights of Broadway are behind you, turn back. You just got to go down every alley until you find it."

Dean stood up, walking out of the diner. Peyton and Sam watched out the window, until he stopped near their window, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the building. Greg watched him for a moment, then clicked his tongue.

"He ain't doing well with this, is he?"

Peyton chuckled silently as she shook her head.

"He thought—_we all_ thought she was dead. And now to hear that she's not only alive, but here …"

Peyton sighed, pushing a hand through her dark curls.

"It's a lot to take in."

Greg nodded. He sighed, reaching in his shirt pocket and laying a few bills on the table. He slid his jacket over his shoulders.

"I was serious about the getting on the road part. I've got a load to take to West Virginia."

Sam and Peyton nodded, gathering their things and standing up. Peyton slid her fingers over the photo one more time, then dropped it into the folder Sam held. They followed Greg out the door, watching Dean flick the butt of his cigarette away, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking to meet them. Greg shook Sam's hand, then Dean's, smiling at Peyton, motioning towards Sam.

"Good luck with this one. And the one that ain't here yet, as well. You're gonna have your hands full."  
"No kidding. It was nice to meet you, Greg."  
"You too. Take care now. And tell Bobby I said hello."

They nodded, and Greg walked towards a big rig parked near the back of the diner. They waved as he drove by them, and they all let out a collective sigh. Peyton looked up to Sam, who leaned down and kissed her.

"Subway's probably our best bet. Taxi's gonna cost an arm and a leg."  
"Lead the way, Sasquatch."

Sam glared at Dean and Peyton let out a laugh, looping her arms around the both of them. She patted Dean's back and he let out a shaky sigh, smiling down at her.

* * *

"How can you be so damn good at navigating in the car, and so damn shitty at reading a subway map?"

Sam ignored Dean, who blew out his breath and walked to the end of the street, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. He refused to smoke anywhere near Peyton, which she appreciated, since the smell made her sick.

"Okay, we just stayed on for one stop too long. I think. We're … Hey, we should be near the park, actually."  
"Central Park?"

Sam nodded, moving the map down to where Peyton could see it.

"I have … no idea what I'm reading."

Sam smiled at her, whispering and pointing to places on the map. Dean shook his head, taking another puff of his cigarette. He glanced behind him, seeing Sam and Peyton still engrossed in the map and he wandered down to the stop light. He glanced around, smiling.

They hadn't done touristy-things growing up. John wasn't the type. But Dean and Sam had managed to talk him into a few fun times. New York City had been one, back when Dean was fourteen.

Damn, nearly thirty years ago.

Dean shook his head, blowing out smoke and flicking the cigarette away. He glanced down the street, shaking his head. He walked back to where he could see Sam and Peyton still huddled together over the map and he whistled. He made a motion with his head, and they walked to him, stopping when they saw Central Park. Sam smiled.

"Told you!"

Dean and Peyton rolled their eyes, and Sam went back to looking at the map. Peyton went up on her tiptoes until Sam tilted the map down where she could read it too, and Dean put his hands in his pockets as he glanced around.

And his world came to a standstill.

Across the street, down just a bit, walking out of the park, surrounded by teenage girls, was Melinda. Dean was certain of it. She was smiling, gesturing to someone close to her, laughing as she slipped an arm around one of the girls. She shivered, pulling her coat closer around her, shaking her head. As they came to a stop at the red light, she lifted a hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, glancing down the street one way, then the other before lifting her eyes to his.

Those ocean blue eyes widened, blinking rapidly. She shook her head, letting her hands fall to her sides. She looked just as shocked as he felt, and she lifted a hand to lay against her chest.

He had to get to her. She was right there. _She was alive._ He took a step off the curb, hearing the blast of a horn a second before a strong hand gripped the back collar of his jacket, jerking him backwards.

"Dean, what the hell, man?!"

Dean blinked, glancing up to see his brother in front of him. Sam's chameleon eyes were a dark hazel, wide and scared, full of worry. Dean shook his head, reaching a hand out to touch Sam's shoulder, while Sam's hand was against his chest, holding him against the wall. Dean let out a breath.

"Sam, it was … it was her. She was—wait."

Dean pushed away from his brother, letting out a breath when he saw the huge vans blocking the view of the other side of the street. Dean started to walk down the sidewalk, but the light changed, the vans moving forward.

Revealing the empty sidewalk across the street.

Dean let out a shaky breath, reaching a hand up to push through his hair. He shook his head, turning back and gripping Sam's arm.

"She was there. I swear to God, Sammy, she was right there."  
"Calm down."  
"She was right the fuck there, I swear."

Sam glanced down the street one way, then the other, seeing a group of girls walking away. He let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Dean, I …"

Dean pushed away from him, lacing his fingers together behind his head, letting out a humorless laugh.

"I'm losing my fucking mind."  
"No, you're not."

Sam sighed, glancing over to see Peyton leaning up against the building, slowly rubbing circles over her belly. Sam looked around once more, then walked over to Dean. He had walked down to the opposite end of their sidewalk, shaking hands reaching into his pockets to pull out his cigarettes and a lighter.

"Dean—"  
"I'm seeing things."

He took a long drag from the cigarette that was shaking in his hand. Sam sighed again, shaking his head.

"It's a natural response."  
"Stow that bullshit, would you?"

Sam shut his mouth, pressing his lips together. Dean shook his head, blowing out a long stream of smoke.

"If I'm not seeing shit and she was real, then she saw me, too. And her face … I swear to God, Sam, it was her."  
"Okay, okay."

Sam blew out his breath, huddling in his jacket as a particularly frigid breeze blew over them.

"It makes sense if she is here. The shelter's between Central Park and Broadway, right?"

Dean nodded, and Sam motioned with his head.

"So let's say she came from there, going through the Park for … oh, I don't know. The scenery?"

Dean snorted, and Sam smiled. Dean finished his smoke, sighing and dropping the cigarette, crushing it under his heel. Sam reached out and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on. I'm pretty sure we're close now."  
"Christ, Sam. Give me the damn map and let me get us there before nightfall."

Sam protested when Dean yanked the map from his back pocket, and Peyton just shook her head, smiling when they reached her again. Sam walked to her and kissed her lips, rubbing his cold nose against hers, making her giggle.

"Shortcut through the Park. Be there in twenty, half an hour, tops."

Peyton pressed her lips together, glancing up at Sam. He rolled his eyes, and Peyton laughed, taking his hand and following behind Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

**Just in case you hadn't figured it out yet, long passages in _italics_are things Meredith is remembering. Dream interpretations are welcome in your reviews, if you want. Any questions, I'd be glad to try to answer. Along the same lines, I heard a song called "Burning House" by Cam, which inspired the first section of this chapter. It's super melancholy, but I like it. Give it a listen, if you want. **

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

"Hey. You're up early."

Meredith glanced over her shoulder, smiling at Alex as he walked into the kitchen. He looked her over, seeing her wrapped in her thick robe, sitting in the chair with her legs pulled up in front of her, almost in a ball. He gave her a smile, then went to the cupboard, finding a navy blue Yale mug with a chipped handle.

He yawned widely as he poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a long sip and shuddering at the bitter taste. Meredith smiled at him, holding up the French vanilla creamer she'd gotten out of the refrigerator when she'd heard him coming down the stairs. Alex walked over to the table, taking the creamer from her hand and kissing the top of her head.

"Bless you, you goddess."

Meredith chuckled to herself as she took another sip of her own doctored coffee. Alex sat beside her, sipping his coffee and nodding at the taste.

"Much better."

She smiled at him, and Alex yawned once more.

"What are you doing up so early, Mer?"

She glanced over at him, then looked back down at the mug between her hands.

"Bad dream."

Alex nodded.

"Want to talk about it?"

Meredith shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head. Alex nodded.

"That's fine. You don't have to."  
"I just … I can't stop thinking about it."

Alex was quiet, and Meredith sighed.

"There was this house. My house, maybe? I don't know. It was old, I know that. Two stories. There was this tree in the front yard, this weird-looking tree. Creepy, kind of. Lots of branches and no leaves."

Alex nodded, and Meredith swallowed.

"It was burning. The house was on fire, and I was standing outside of it, watching it burn. And then I … I saw someone inside."

Alex reached over, and Meredith laid her hand on the table, so Alex could rest his hand on top of hers. She took a sip from her coffee.

"I told you about the man I keep seeing in my dreams?"

Alex smiled as he nodded, and Meredith nodded back.

"It was him, in the house. As soon as I noticed him, I was inside, running to get to him. And when I found him, I couldn't … I don't know."  
"Mer—"  
"No, it … It's hard to describe. It's like I knew that … that only one of us could get out. And I tried to push him out, tried to make him go."

She shook her head.

"But he wouldn't. And I wasn't going to leave him. I—I couldn't. So, I … I walked close to him, and he wrapped his arms around me. We laid down on the floor, and … and we just held each other. Until there was nothing left but smoke."

She shivered, running her hand up and down her arm as she glanced to the window. Alex was quiet, and Meredith pushed her now-cold cup of coffee away.

"What does that mean, Alex? Why am I dreaming about fire? About burning?"

Alex shook his head, lifting a shaky hand to rub at his mouth.

"I don't … I don't know."

Meredith glanced towards the window again, pulling her legs closer, until her knees were almost touching her chest. She tilted her head, resting her chin on her knees.

"There was a peace about it, though. Like … Like when we realized we couldn't get out, it was like a peace came over me. I felt safe in his arms, even though I knew I was about to burn to death. I just did what he did, lying beside him on the floor, wrapping my arms around him. And I knew there was never any other option than to die with him."  
"Mer, stop."

Alex stood up, shaking his head, walking over to the sink. Meredith closed her eyes.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—to upset you."  
"No, it's …"

Alex sighed.

"I asked you to talk about it. It's …"  
"Unsettling? Yeah, no kidding."

Meredith shivered again, closing her eyes for just a moment, seeing those emerald green eyes boring into hers, rough hands holding hers so gently. She could almost feel his lips against her forehead when Alex cleared his throat. She blinked her eyes open, looking over to him, saw the smile on his face as he shook his head.

"Change of subject, please."  
"New Year's Eve is tomorrow."  
"Wait, what?"

Meredith smiled, nodding her head.

"Yeah. Tomorrow is December 31."  
"Seriously?"  
"Look at the calendar."

Alex walked over to the calendar hanging beside the refrigerator, setting his hands on his hips.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Meredith let out a quiet laugh.

"Snuck up on us, didn't it?"

Meredith looked down at the table, taking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"_Daddy said I get to stay up 'til midnight, Aunt …"_

Meredith's head shot up, glancing around the room.

"What?"

Alex turned from the calendar, raising an eyebrow at Meredith.

"I didn't say anything."  
"Are you sure?"

Alex let out a laugh.

"Yeah, I'm pretty positive."

Meredith shook her head.

"I swore I just heard …"

Alex stared at her, and she just shook her head.

"_How much longer til midnight?"  
"Forty-three minutes. Think you can hang, little blondie?"_

_Blue eyes closed on a wide yawn. Crow's feet deepened around eyes the same color, as a masculine chuckle was heard._

"_We shall see, won't we?"_

Meredith raised a hand, pressing it against her forehead. She let out a whimper as pain shot through her skull. Alex slowly made his way back to the table.

"You okay?"

His voice was soft, and she exhaled shakily before she nodded ever so slightly.

"I'm remembering things, I think."  
"What kind of things?"

Meredith shook her head.

"Maybe from when … when I was little?"  
"A childhood memory?"  
"That's what it … feels like."

Alex sighed as he reached over, running his hand up and down her arm.

"That's a good sign, right?"

Meredith smiled, nodding her aching head.

"Yeah."  
"Any plans for today?"

She smiled again at his not-so-smooth change of subject, trying to get her mind away from the pain. She let out a shaky breath.

"There's a … flea market kind of thing over … Somewhere on the other side of the Park. I can't remember exactly where. But I thought I'd see if some of the girls wanted to go and check it out."  
"Shopping?"

Meredith smiled and nodded. Alex made a face, and she let out a laugh.

"I'll gather up some girls and you can deal with the rest of them."  
"Oh, how sweet of you."

Meredith laughed as she let her feet touch the floor. She reached over and patted his hand, giving him a soft smile.

"Thank you. For listening and … just being you."  
"Well, I love you, Mer. I'm here, anytime you want to talk."

She stood up, walking to him and leaning to kiss his cheek. He smiled as he watched her walk from the room, then made a face when he heard a crash from the living room.

"It's not even nine yet. Why are you monsters out of bed?!"

Laughter echoed down the hall as Alex drained the rest of his coffee, then followed the sounds of rowdy teenage boys.

* * *

Charlie, Jackie, Eva, and Julia all decided to walk to the market with Meredith. They bundled themselves into coats and scarves and gloves, then ventured out into the near-arctic air. Well, at least according to Charlie. The rest of the girls just huddled further into their coats.

They chattered with each other, keeping a steady stream of conversation going, with Meredith signing for Julia as much as she could. She smiled every time the girls would turn around, walking backwards so Julia could read their lips, or when they took the time to sign what they knew.

There was a book that Alex had picked up about how to sign, and the first time Julia had seen it, when she realized what was going on, she sat down in the middle of the living room and cried. No one had ever taken the time to learn how to try to communicate with her. She'd bounced from foster home to foster home, with everyone too busy to deal with such a "difficult" child.

A teary-eyed Meredith had simply held her when she'd translated Julia's signs, and from then on, everyone in the house had done what they could to learn how to sign. It was harder for some of the boys, since a few of them had learning disabilities, but they would take the time to speak slowly and clearly, where Julia could read their lips.

"Hey, Mer?"

Meredith looked up, in time to see Charlie tuck a piece of her fiery hair behind her ear.

"_Whatever. Like you could pull off this head of fire."  
"Like I'd want to!"_

_Laughter rang through the room, until slender arms wrapped around her, hugging her tight._

"_Don't be jealous."  
"I know I'd never pull that hair off. No one could but you …"_

Meredith laid a hand against her stomach, shaking her head. She blinked, and Charlie stared at her, while the rest of the girls exchanged glances. Meredith pushed a smile on her face.

"What's up, Charlie?"

Charlie blinked, then tucked her hands in her pockets.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Meredith smiled.

"Ghosts?"

Charlie nodded, stepping over to walk beside Meredith, watching her feet.

"What do you mean? Like Casper?"

Charlie let out a quiet laugh.

"No, not … not like people with sheets on their heads. Not animated, either."

Meredith smiled.

"You mean like people who've died?"

Charlie nodded, still staring at her feet. Meredith nodded, shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't know. Do you?"

Charlie bit her lip.

"I don't know. I mean, I … I kind of want to."

Meredith smiled, nodding as realization hit her.

"Do you mean ghosts or angels, Charlie?"

Charlie shrugged her shoulders, not looking up. Meredith looped an arm around her skinny shoulders.

"I'm not sure about ghosts, but I know—for a fact—that there are angels watching over you."

Charlie lifted her head, tears sparkling in her dark eyes.

"How do you know that?"  
"How don't you?"

Charlie glanced down again, and Meredith smiled, reaching over to gently push Charlie's chin up.

"I thought Alex was an angel, first time I saw him."  
"On the bench?"  
"Yep. Right over there."

All the girls stopped, looking over to where Meredith was pointing. A soft smile crossed her face.

"I was laying on the bench, and I was asleep. Alex walked up, woke me up, asked me if I was okay. I didn't know where I was, or even who I was. And the sun was behind him, looking like a halo around his head. And when he helped me up and took me to the hospital, I was convinced he really was an angel."

The girls were quiet, and Meredith smiled again.

"Now, I know he's just a regular person. But I kind of feel like an angel sent him to find me. Just like I believe angels point you kids in the direction of Carly's House. It's hard to find on your own, you all know that. But somehow …"

Meredith squeezed Charlie's shoulder, reached over to pat Julia's head, laid her hand against Jackie's cheek, then squeezed Eva's hand.

"You all found us. And I thank God every night that you did."

They were all quiet, soft smiles on all their faces. Meredith let out a watery laugh, reaching up to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Okay, okay. Enough of this. It's just a little further this way."  
"Do we need to cross the street? Up at the stoplight?"

Meredith glanced around, taking a minute to think, then nodded.

"Yeah, we can cross here."

They walked up the sidewalk together, reigniting their conversations, and Meredith looped her arm around Charlie's shoulder. She smiled as they walked, throwing back her head and laughing when Charlie made a joke. She signed more for Julia as the conversation picked up again, and when they reached the street, Meredith shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her.

"Wait until the little guy shows up on the thing over there. Do not try and make it before or after, because I cannot deal with any Charlie-shaped pancakes, okay? That goes for the rest of you, too!"

She shook her head at the laughter behind her, reaching to tuck some hair behind her ear as she glanced to her left, then to her right, feeling like an idiot when she realized it was a one-way street. She sighed as she glanced forward, breath catching in her throat when her eyes locked with a man on the other side of the street.

_Him._

She blinked her eyes and shook her head, feeling her lungs deflate as her arms fell to her sides. Shock coursed through her veins, making her entire body tremble, and she lifted a hand to lay against her suddenly-racing heart. She watched him take a step off the curb, and she took a step forward, trying to get to him.

"Meredith!"

Meredith stumbled backwards and blinked, looking up to see Jackie staring at her, dark eyes wide. Meredith flinched at the honking of a horn, glancing around before looking across the street again. Delivery vans were side-by-side at the light, blocking the view of the other side.

He was _just_ there.

The man she'd been dreaming about, the one she knew that she knew, but couldn't remember. His cheeks were shadowed by a strangely red-colored beard, green eyes wide as he'd caught sight of her. She hadn't been able to breathe for that long second that their eyes had met, and all she knew was that she had to get to him.

So she'd stepped out into the traffic, until Jackie had reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back onto the sidewalk.

Meredith swallowed, reaching up and laying her hand over her racing heart, tucking some hair behind her ear before she looked to Jackie, who was still staring at her, dark eyes full of worry. Meredith swallowed, and Jackie shook her head.

"You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Meredith shook her head, walking down the sidewalk a bit, trying to get a glimpse of the other side of the street. Jackie exchanged a glance with Eva, who looked back at Julia, who shrugged her shoulders. Charlie stepped forward, clearing her throat.

"Mer?"

Meredith shook her head, going up on her toes to try to see across the street.

"It was him."  
"Him who?"

Meredith shook her head, and Charlie took another step towards her.

"Who's 'him'?"

Meredith looked to Charlie, quickly breathing in and out. Charlie reached out, laying her hands on Meredith's elbows.

"Meredith, what's wrong?"

Tears came to Meredith's eyes, and for reasons that she couldn't comprehend. She shook her head, looking down at the ground.

"It's nothing."  
"It's not nothing if you're this upset about it."

Meredith looked up again, sniffling as she shook her head, tightening the scarf around her neck. Charlie just blinked, standing close to her, while Jackie and Eva spoke quietly down the sidewalk from them, and Julia alternated from reading Jackie and Eva's lips to glancing over at Charlie and Meredith. Meredith sighed, pushing her hand through her hair again.

"I just … I thought I saw someone."  
"Someone you recognized?"

Meredith sighed again, then nodded. Charlie smiled.

"Meredith, that's good! Why are you crying?"

Meredith shook her head as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"I don't know."

Charlie blinked, and Meredith blew out a breath as she lifted a hand to wipe her eyes. The tears felt like ice cubes sliding down her cheeks when the wind hit her face. She sniffled, then spoke again.

"I just … Memories usually hurt, you know? But this … I know that I know him, and I just … all I feel is that if I can just get to him…"

She shook her head.

"I don't know."  
"Is this the guy you keep dreaming about?"

Meredith nodded, then let out a laugh.

"Yeah. I keep dreaming about him, and now I'm seeing him on random streets. Great."

Charlie let out a laugh.

"Well, there's like eight billion people in this city, right?"

Meredith laughed.

"And you only see people that you've seen before in your dreams, so maybe this guy is somebody you've bumped into on the streets."

Meredith shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, he … He seems familiar to me. And it's more than that, but … I don't know."

Charlie stepped up, putting her arms around Meredith, who smiled and hugged her back. Charlie let out a breath, then spoke quietly.

"It's going to be okay. Just … don't think about it anymore. Not right now, anyway."

Meredith nodded, squeezing Charlie once before letting her go.

"You're right. Let's just have fun now and not worry about anything else."

Charlie smiled, then waved to the other girls, who walked over. Eva and Julia watched Meredith with wary eyes, and she just smiled.

"It's okay."  
"Are you sure? We can go home, if you—"

Meredith smiled at Jackie, then shook her head.

"No, I … I'm okay. We're not going to worry about anything else, and that includes me, all right?"

The girls nodded, and Meredith nodded back at them.

"Okay. Let's keep going, and maybe we can make it back before we freeze to death."

The girls laughed, then made their way down the sidewalk, crossing over at the next stoplight. Meredith couldn't help glancing down to where they just were, to the empty sidewalk. She glanced down at her hands, shaking her head, moving the fingers on her left hand, sighing as the light changed and they made their way across the street.

* * *

Eva couldn't stop staring at the bracelet around her wrist. Charlie refused to take off the Yoda beanie she'd found. Jackie kept reaching for the book in her bag, but forced herself to turn back around each time. Julia kept acting like her hands were claws in the hot pink mittens, making them pinch the others, but never hurting them.

Meredith sat back and watched them all, sipping on the large—sorry, Venti—cup of coffee warming her hands. It was nice and toasty in the Starbucks, and the girls chattered like teenagers do, sipping their heavy on the flavor, light on the coffee drinks.

"Hey, Meredith?"

She glanced over, to see Eva lift her eyes towards her, a soft smile on her face. Meredith smiled back, and Eva spoke softly.

"I've always wanted to go to one of those … street market things. Thanks."

Meredith couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. She pushed a smile on her face and nodded. Eva nodded back at her, going back to toying with the pretty beaded bracelet she'd found.

"Hey, Mer."

She looked over again, to see Charlie in that ridiculous Yoda cap. Ears and all.

"Tell Jackie she can take the book out and look at it. We all want to find something in there for her to cook for dinner for us."

Jackie stared at the table, dark eyes wide, and Meredith laughed.

"Go ahead, honey. I don't mind, and you know these girls don't. And you don't _have_ to cook for everyone. Charlie."

Charlie shrugged her shoulders, taking another sip from her … frappuccino, heavy on the whipped cream. Jackie turned to pull the cookbook out of her bag, laying it on the table and sliding her hand across the cover. Eva, Charlie, and Julia leaned closer, watching as Jackie opened the book, reading the different sections.

Meredith sat back in her chair, glancing out the window.

"_I love you. I have for a long time. Even before I could say it, I loved you. I think I fell for you the moment I saw you."_

She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes.

"_Will you take a chance with me?"_

Meredith squeezed her eyes shut, forcing out a breath. Tears slid from beneath her eyelids, until a soft hand was gently patting hers. Meredith slowly moved her head from side-to-side, that deep, distorted voice joined by another, broken and unnatural-sounding, ringing through her ears.

"_I wanted you to relax."  
"I will. As soon as I can wrap my arms around you."_

Meredith lifted her hands to grab handfuls of her hair, letting out a sob, barely speaking at all.

"Please make it stop."

She could feel the hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing, and she knew Julia was in front of her. She knew Julia couldn't hear her, could only see Meredith clearly in pain, and when she felt Julia let go, she knew she'd gone to get the other girls.

"_They can't take you away from me. I … I can't do this without you."  
"You won't have to … I promise."_

Meredith whimpered as she laid her hand on the table, sliding it down until she could grip the edge hard.

"Meredith. Hey, come on. Please."

Jackie's gentle hands slowly slid up and down her back. Meredith shook her head, letting out a sob, and Jackie quietly shushed her.

"It's okay. Come on, let's go home. Meredith, please. Let's go."

Quiet.

When Jackie stopped talking, nothing coursed through Meredith's head. Nothing but pain. She lifted one shaky hand to rub at her forehead, still gripping the table with her other hand. When the pain subsided, eased just a bit, Meredith blinked her eyes open. Jackie knelt before her, dark eyes full of worry. The other girls were crowded close by, blocking Meredith from the rest of the customers. Meredith closed her eyes, then blinked them open again.

"I—I'm sorry."  
"Don't worry about us. Are you okay?"

Meredith glanced around, letting out a shaky breath. She slowly nodded, closing her eyes at a throb of pain, then looked up at the girls. Charlie stepped forward, holding out her hand.

"Jackie's right. Let's go home."

Meredith nodded, letting out a sigh. She forced a smile for the girls, then stood on shaky legs. The girls all turned and gathered their things, then slowly walked out of the coffee shop, surrounding Meredith in a little bubble.

No one noticed the handprint burned into the edge of the table, still smoking as the bell above the door jingled in exit.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

In an alley in New York City, surrounded by the smell of trash and a rancid something he couldn't describe, with icy wind feeling as though it were cutting his face, Dean Winchester felt like he was going to vomit.

He needed a cigarette worse than a werewolf needed a silver bullet to the heart. Or at least, it would, if there were werewolves anymore… Damn it.

"This is it."

Dean closed his eyes at the soft sound of his brother's fiancé's voice, then glanced over in time to see Sam's long arm reach out, fingers tracing over the words etched into stone in the side of the building. Peyton had tears in her eyes, and Dean reached out to brush his fingers along her shoulder before Sam looped his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. Peyton shook her head, turning to face him, gripping his jacket in her hands.

"What if she's not here?"  
"Honey—"  
"We came all this way, and if she's not—or if we were wrong, I don't think—"  
"Peyton, baby. Breathe."

Peyton leaned forward, resting her forehead against Sam's flannel-covered chest. The kid had always run hot, and he had his jacket open, the icy wind not bothering his furnace-like body. Dean shook his head, fingers itching for one of the cigarettes from the pack in his pocket. He glanced over, seeing Sam with his hand on the back of Peyton's head, gently scratching her scalp, holding her close.

"We have to give it a shot. You're right. We came all this way, and we're not giving up now."  
"But what if she—"  
"Peyton."

She lifted her head from his chest, and Sam gave her a soft smile, reaching up to brush a wayward curl off her forehead.

"Can't you feel her?"

Peyton let out a watery laugh.

"I can't feel anything anymore. I'm frozen."

Sam laughed, leaning down to kiss her lips, holding her chilled face between his warm hands. Peyton gave a quiet hum of appreciation, and Dean bit his tongue, hard, before he squared his shoulders and walked up the small front steps, knocking heavily on the door. He stepped back, smiling to himself when Peyton's hand slipped into his, and the door opened just enough for a teenage boy's head to poke out.

Faded bruises surrounded one of his eyes, skin discoloration all but disappeared. It might not even be noticeable, to someone who wasn't a Winchester. Growing up the way they had, bruises were a common occurrence, welcome even, when compared to some of the other injuries they'd suffered. Almost without thinking, Sam lifted his hands, gently rubbing his right wrist, while Dean absently rubbed at his chest. The boy raised an eyebrow, and Sam cleared his throat.

"We, uh … We're looking for someone. Maybe you could help us?"

The boy shook his head, voice deeper than they were expecting.

"We don't give out information like that. Sorry."  
"Wait!"

The boy stopped just before the door was closed, and Peyton stepped forward, one hand holding the front of her belly.

"It's not one of you. The person we're looking for. She's not a kid or anything. She … She works here."

The boy tilted his head to the side, glancing back behind him as a soft voice was heard.

"Who's at the door?"  
"Some people looking for someone. I think …"  
"What?"

The boy looked forward, at Dean and Sam and Peyton, then ducked inside, whispering. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a tall redhead with wide blue eyes. Dean shared a glance with Sam, and the redhead cleared her throat, speaking shakily.

"Who are you looking for?"

Peyton met her eyes, then looked down as she reached into her purse. She pulled out her wallet, smiling softly as she ran her fingers over a picture, then pulled the picture out and handed it to the girl.

"We're looking for her. Have you … have you seen her?"

The girl's eyes went impossibly wider, and she looked back, at the boy peering over her shoulder, who was surrounding her from behind in a protective way. Sam smiled at that. He knew exactly how the boy was feeling, since Sam was currently in a similar position with Peyton. Dean stood beside them, rubbing his hands together. Peyton cleared her throat.

"Do you re—recognize her?"

The girl and the boy just stared at each other, speaking with their eyes, until a soft smile crossed her face. She nodded once, then turned back to face the three people outside the door.

"Please come inside. Let me just … I'll be right back."

She laid her hand against the boy's chest, and he lifted his hand to cover hers before she walked away. He stepped back, opening the door wider, and Dean stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the room, finding the exits, the windows, any points of entry or weak spots. Peyton stepped in behind him, letting out a sigh at the feeling of warmth, and Sam rounded out their group, eyes scanning the room the same way Dean's had.

Peyton motioned towards the couch, and the boy nodded, stepping aside so she could walk over, letting out a groan as she sank down, hand on her belly. Sam stepped over to her and she reached up, taking his hand and smiling.

"I'm good. Just a little tired. Lot of walking."

Sam nodded, squeezing her hand once. The boy cleared his throat, looking at all of them before catching Dean's eye. He nodded at him, crossing his muscled arms over his wide chest.

"If you don't mind my asking, how do you know her?"

Dean pursed his lips.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do _you_?"

The boy smiled, looking down.

"She lives here. Works here. Takes care of us. She … saved my life, if I'm completely honest."

No one said anything, but the boy smiled again.

"She took care of me, when I got the shit beat out of me. I wouldn't go to a hospital, even though I probably should have. She tried to make me, but I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, so …"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"She patched me up and stayed up all night looking out for me."

He looked over, meeting Dean's eyes again.

"I owe her. Not gonna let anything happen to her."

Dean nodded, a smirk on his face as he reached up to touch the chain around his neck. It was easy to feel protective of her, he knew from past experience. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he pushed that aside, stepping forward and holding out a hand.

"Dean."

The boy looked down at his hand, then gripped it with his own.

"Patrick."

They let go of their hands and Sam stepped forward, shaking Patrick's hand next.

"I'm Sam, and this is my fiancé, Peyton."

She waved from the couch, wincing once. Sam knelt beside her and she let out a laugh, gently pushing his shoulder.

"Fine. It's just kicking like crazy."

Sam's huge hands easily spanned her belly, and he sucked in a breath when a powerful kick landed against his palm.

"Holy cow."

Peyton laughed, pushing her hands through his hair, and Sam smiled up at her as he leaned forward, kissing her lips as his hand rested against their child. Dean cleared his throat, locking eyes with Patrick.

"Tell me what you know about her."

Patrick sighed, pushing a hand through his dark hair.

"Her name's Meredith."  
"Actually, that's what we call her. Meredith."

They turned to see the redhead walk back into the room, a tall, lanky man behind her. She smiled at Dean, holding out a hand.

"Elise."

Dean nodded, shaking her hand once.

"Dean. That's Sam and Peyton."

They waved, and Elise smiled at them. She motioned behind her, to the man standing back and staring at Dean.

"This is Alex. He runs the place, and he'd like to speak with you."

Dean nodded, and Alex reached in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He handed a card to Elise, tearing his eyes from their visitors.

"Take the boys down to the arcade. You know, down the street? Keep them there as long as you can."  
"Alex—"  
"Buy them snacks, but don't let them fill up, and don't go crazy, okay? This card doth not give you free reign. Use the power wisely."

Elise rolled her eyes, but tucked her hand in Patrick's, leading him out of the room. Alex cleared his throat, pushing a smile onto his face.

"Would you mind coming up to my office?"

Sam helped Peyton up from the couch, holding onto her elbows while she caught her breath and found her balance. She smiled up at him and followed Alex up the stairs. Halfway up, Sam stopped, turning back to face his brother, who had frozen at the bottom step.

"Dean? You coming?"  
"It smells like her."

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking forward to Peyton, who nodded, continuing to follow Alex. Sam stepped back down, and Dean lifted his eyes, so full of pain and grief that Sam could barely stand to look at them. Sam swallowed, reaching out and putting his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Come on, man. We can get through this."  
"I don't know if I can."  
"I do."

Dean met Sam's eyes, nodding slowly as Sam squeezed his shoulder.

"Let me shoulder this one, okay?"  
"Sam—"  
"No, I … You don't have to say anything, okay? Let me ask the questions, and you can sit back and soak it in."  
"It's her, Sam. I know it is."  
"Okay, then."  
"What do you mean, 'okay'?"  
"I mean, I believe you. If anyone would know when it came to her, it would be you."

Dean stared at the ground, and Sam squeezed his shoulder once more.

"Come on. Let's find out what your girl's been up to."

* * *

Alex sat at his desk, mulling over the papers spread out in front of him. Sam and Peyton sat at the chairs in front of the desk, while Dean stood behind them, leaned up against the wall. Alex ran his hand over his chin, reading through the information, trying not to look at the pictures.

It scared him, to be completely honest. The fact that someone had gotten that close to her, to take pictures of her without any of them knowing. He was supposed to protect her. He'd promised to keep her safe, and she had basically been stalked for months. And he hadn't had a damn clue.

He shook his head, rubbing his mouth before lifting his eyes. The woman was on the edge of her seat, dark eyes full of worry, curly hair pulled back from her face. She had one hand gripped tightly in the tall man's beside her, and from all Alex could see, he was the rock of the group. The bearded man against the wall had a weight on his shoulders, grief in his eyes, and he couldn't stand still.

Alex cleared his throat, speaking as calmly as he could.

"You're her family."

He didn't pose it as a question, because it wasn't one. He could tell. The worry that surrounded these people, the hope and apprehension in their faces … He'd seen it before. He'd lived it before, and his world had come crumbling down.

Their outcome would be much better than his.

The woman nodded as tears filled her dark eyes. The hand that wasn't gripping the tall man's went to her swollen belly, gently rubbing it. She blinked, speaking softly.

"Yes. I'm her cousin. Sam is my fiancé, and that's—"  
"His brother. I'm … I'm Sam's brother."

Sam and Peyton both turned around, eyes wide and mouths open. Dean met their gaze, slowly shaking his head once. Peyton stared at him, and Dean glanced down. Sam turned back, clearing his throat, speaking softly to Alex. Peyton took in a breath when she saw Dean fiddling with the ring on his finger.

Sam gently tapped Peyton's wrist, and she turned back around to face Alex. She shook her head, smiling gently.

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

Alex gave her a half-smile, clearing his throat once.

"I was just wondering what you could tell me about her."

Peyton smiled, glancing at Sam. He nodded at her, then turned to Alex.

"Actually, we'd like to hear your side first."

Alex nodded, leaning back in his chair, letting out a sigh.

"Six months ago, I went for a run in Central Park. Cliché, I know. But I like to take a break from the city, and the Park's the best place to do that. I went on a different route than I usually take, and when I did, I found this beautiful girl sleeping on one of the benches down by the _Alice in Wonderland _statue."

He looked down at his hands.

"She was shivering on the bench, and it was so hot outside. I knew she had to be sick, so I woke her up, asked her what her name was. And she … She couldn't tell me."

Peyton looked over to Sam, who took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Alex continued on with his story.

"I asked her if she was okay, and she didn't know. She was so scared, and I just … I don't know, I couldn't stand to see her cry. I helped her up and grabbed a cab, took her to the nearest hospital. They put her through the wringer, test-wise, and all they could come up with was that she had amnesia."

Dean closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall.

"She was, quite literally, a Jane Doe. Not one single memory. Her name, her age, everything is a mystery. We determined that she had to be in her late twenties. I had a team checking Missing Persons cases, kidnappings, and they never found anything. We put out flyers and bulletins across the country. But nothing ever came of it."

Alex turned to glance out his window.

"She's smart. So kind. She'd do anything for anyone, takes care of all of us here."  
"How did she …"  
"End up here?"

Alex looked to Peyton, who nodded.

"I brought her home with me after the hospital released her. She'd been dehydrated and she's got an incredibly low body temperature. I couldn't just put her back out on the street. God only knows how long she'd been there before I found her. So, I brought her home with me. Well, after we picked up a few things."

Alex cleared his throat again.

"When we went to one of the stores, there was a section with different things with initials on them. She kept gravitating towards the things with M's on them, and she told me she thought her name might start with an 'M'. So, I named her Meredith."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"She fit in seamlessly with the kids who were here at the time. They all treated her like she was made of glass, tried different games to try and jog her memory. And she remembered something one day. I don't even remember what it was. But that night, I woke up to hear her screaming."

He closed his eyes, sitting up in his chair.

"She was convinced she was dying. She was crying and throwing up and she couldn't even open her eyes. Scared the shit out of me. I woke up one of the older kids, told them to watch the younger ones, and I got to the hospital as fast as I could. They did all kinds of tests again, thought she might be having an aneurysm or something."

He shook his head.

"But everything was normal. She was so sick, hurting so bad, and they couldn't find anything wrong with her. She recovered from that, and two weeks later, it happened again. Same thing. CT scans were clean, bloodwork perfect. The only thing wrong is that her body temp is so low."

He let out a sigh, lifting his head.

"If she remembers anything, which she's been doing a lot of lately, the migraines hit. She can't handle light or sound or touch. All she can do is stay in the bed until it passes."

Alex blinked, looking from one of them to the other, then to the other.

"Six months I've had to sit back and watch while she's in pain, unable to help her. Six months."

He lifted his eyes to the bearded man standing against the wall, green eyes filled with pain.

"Where were you for the last six months?"

Dean stared at him, unable to look away or blink or breathe. Alex kept his eyes on him, until a soft voice spoke from one of the chairs.

"We didn't know."

Alex lifted his eyes to the sorrow-filled hazel eyes of the tall man, who, crouched down in his seat like that, suddenly seemed so small. Sam shook his head, voice rough.

"There was … an accident. One that no—no one could have survived. We thought … We thought she was dead."  
"You didn't bother to look for her?"

Sam's eyes closed in pain for a moment, before he opened them again, tears swimming there.

"All evidence pointed to the fact that she was gone. There was not even a sliver of hope that she might have made it alive."

Sam shook his head, one tear slipping down his cheek.

"We didn't know."

Peyton reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly before looking to Alex again, tears slipping from her eyes as she gave him a sad smile.

"Her name is Melinda. She's twenty-eight years old, and she's my very best friend. She's from San Francisco, California, from a big family. She's got two brothers and six first cousins that she's very close to. The whole family is extremely close."

Alex smiled, glancing down at the photo in front of him, the one Peyton had given Elise earlier. Meredith—no. _Melinda_ was smiling, long blonde hair down past her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling.

"That explains why she was so comfortable in this place. The kids running in and out, new ones showing up all the time. Everyone needing a warm bed, a good meal. She never flinched. I would freak out, think we didn't have enough room or … whatever, and she'd just smile, pat me on the back and tell me everything was going to be okay."

Alex blinked tears back from his own eyes, and Peyton swallowed. She watched him trace the picture with gentle fingers and she closed her eyes.

"You love her."

Alex lifted his head, locking eyes with the bearded man standing back against the wall. He blinked once, then spoke, his voice calm and confident.

"Yes. I do, very much."

The man nodded once, opening the door and walking out of the room. Sam stood up.

"Dean!"

Peyton grabbed his hand, shaking her head. Sam sighed, sitting back down and putting his head in his hands.

"Christ."  
"Give him a minute."  
"A minute? Peyton, how am I supposed to—"  
"Can I ask what's going on here?"

Peyton and Sam turned to look at Alex, who had his eyebrows raised. Peyton smiled softly, then spoke.

"Can we figure it out first?"

* * *

Dean flicked the butt of his cigarette away and pulled another one out of the carton. He wasn't a chain smoker, but at the moment … He didn't know what else to do.

She was alive.  
She had no idea who she was.  
Which meant that she didn't know him.

It _hurt_.

Christ Almighty, it hurt like hell. Not to mention the bastard inside, who was in love with her.

Dean sighed, standing with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. He shook his head, pulling his lighter from his pocket and lighting up. He inhaled, holding the burn in his lungs before exhaling a stream of smoke.

So the guy wasn't really a bastard. No, he was a hero, and if Dean wasn't a lesser man, he'd thank him. He found her, saved her, took care of her when Dean couldn't. Is it really a surprise that he fell for her?

Not at all.

Dean took another drag from the cigarette, ignoring the biting wind that was blowing straight through his jacket, numbing his hands and his nose. He blew out a stream of smoke, watching it disappear as his thoughts were racing through his brain. One thing stuck out, though, and it was suddenly all he could think of.

She had no memory. Which meant that she didn't remember her life, or any part of her life. Not her family, not her education, and most definitely, not him. As painful as it was to think on, Dean couldn't help but smile.

She was free.

This was her chance. She could go and do whatever she wanted, be whomever she wanted to be, and have not one single thing holding her back.

She wouldn't have Dean holding her back.

He put his cigarette in his mouth, reaching for his left hand, turning the ring on his finger. He slipped it off, smiling at the white circle around his finger, the tan line the ring had left behind. It hurt, to take it off after all this time.

He'd spent their first anniversary alone. Just a few weeks after the battle in the cemetery (if you could even call it a battle), Dean spent the day literally crying into his beer. Jenny had sat with him at P3, because she knew what it was like to be married for a short time, only to lose your spouse. All day long, they'd cried and shared stories, drank most of the bar's supply of liquor.

Dean sighed, taking one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it beneath his heel. He glanced up, to see his brother standing before him. He slipped his hands in his pockets, nodding once to Sam, who sighed.

"We need to talk."  
"No kidding."

Sam snorted, shaking his head. Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's the answer we were looking for. She hasn't looked for us because she …"  
"She doesn't remember us."

Dean walked over until he could lean against the building, propping his foot up. Sam followed him over, leaning beside him. Dean let out a sigh, holding his wedding ring up between his thumb and forefinger. He looked over and saw the confusion on Sam's face.

"She doesn't remember us, Sam. Anything we've gone through in the past six, seven years. She doesn't … She doesn't remember me, Sam. She doesn't _know_ me."

Sam stood up from the wall, shaking his head.

"Dean, what are you … what are you getting at here?"

Dean blew out a slow breath, placing his ring in his hand and holding it out to Sam.

"She doesn't know me."  
"She's married to you, Dean."  
"Not that she knows of."  
"I don't understand what you're—"

Dean slid the ring in his pocket, then pushed off the wall.

"Hear me out?"

Sam nodded, and Dean rubbed a hand over his beard.

"I lost her. For six months, I could barely breathe without her. And now, she's alive. She's been alive, and she's … Fuck, she's _thriving_, Sam."

Dean let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"All this time, I've barely been able to keep my head above water, and she's saving kids from the streets. She's mothering all these children, and I'm the reason she never got to have a baby. I'm a fucking mess and she's … this place's dream come true."

He turned to face his brother, shaking his head again.

"How can I take her away from that?"  
"Dean."

The shocked expression on Sam's face was too much for Dean to handle. He turned and started walking down the alley, and Sam jogged to catch up with him.

"Wait, wait. Dean, stop."

He finally did, and Sam walked to stand in front of him, shaking his head.

"Am I hearing this right? You want to … what? Pretend you don't know her because she doesn't know you?"

Dean sighed, dragging his hand over his face.

"She doesn't remember anything. She won't remember being married to me. Why would I tell her that?"  
"Because she's your wife! Because she was so damn happy when you two got married!"  
"She doesn't remember me, Sam! She doesn't remember getting married. She's happy here. She's got a job and a purpose and a life here. How am I supposed to yank her away from this and shove her back in a family that she doesn't know? How am I supposed to take her away from—from him and tell her, 'Oh, he might love you, but you're mine. Sorry.'"

Sam held out his hands, and Dean kicked a soda can on the ground.

"This is so fucking complicated. This morning, I was just hoping she was alive. Now? I … I don't even know."

Sam held his hand over his mouth for a moment, then cleared his throat. Dean looked over to him and Sam let his hand fall, lifting his shoulders and dropping them.

"I don't even know what to tell you right now."

Dean blew out his breath and turned away from his brother.

"However …"

Dean stopped and Sam walked to catch up to him.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe she doesn't know you or us or any of her family. Maybe this life is the only one she knows."  
"What 'maybe,' Sam? Did you not hear the guy?"  
"That's just it, Dean. I did hear 'the guy.' Who I didn't hear was Mel."

Dean stopped, and Sam went on.

"We haven't seen her yet, Dean. We've taken Alex's word on everything, and since when did we ever just take anyone's word without checking it out for ourselves? That's not who we are."

Sam stood in front of his brother, glancing around, huddling in his jacket at the sudden, biting wind.

"I want to see her and get the story straight from her. I want her to look me in the eye and act like it's the first time she's ever met me. Then I'll believe what Alex said. But Dean, he also said she gets headaches from remembering things. Who's to say the things she remembers aren't us?"

Dean let out a slow, shaky breath, looking up at Sam.

"I don't know if I can do it, Sammy. When she—"  
"If, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes.

"_If_ she doesn't know me, I … I don't know if I can handle it. I'm barely hanging on as it is."  
"I know. But I'm here, and there's nothing else I can say to you right now. Other than …"

Sam smiled, laying his hands on Dean's shoulders.

"This could be your chance, Dean."  
"My chance for what?"

Sam's smile widened.

"To do it all over again. To make her fall in love with you, to treat her the way you think she should have been treated the first time. No one ever gets a chance like this, Dean. You can't … you can't just pass it up because you think you're not good enough for her. I mean, yeah. It's a crap situation to be in, but …"

Sam closed his eyes, opening them again a few seconds later, eyes full of hope.

"We thought we'd lost her. That we'd never get to see her again. You never thought you'd get to see her, but Dean … She's here. She's alive. So don't treat it like the Mel you knew is gone. Don't force-feed her memories and try to get her to be who she was. Learn who she is now, adapt, and make her fall in love with you again."

Dean stared at the soda can he'd kicked a few minutes ago, and Sam smiled.

"Do you know what I'd give to go back? To find Peyton sooner and to treat her the way she should have been treated from the beginning? No Ruby, no demon blood, no apocalypse. Just me, finding the girl I'm supposed to be with and not fucking it up."

Sam stepped forward again, laying his hands on Dean's shoulders, squeezing once.

"This is your chance, Dean. To be the man you keep wishing you could be, but don't understand that you are. She doesn't remember the bad, so you can fill her life with nothing but good."

Dean sighed, shaking his head once. Sam had a point. Sam had a damn good point, and he'd be an idiot to not to take the advice. Dean nodded once, then met his brother's eyes.

"If she's with that … Alex guy, I'm stepping back. I don't want to ruin anything else for her."

Sam nodded.

"That's respectable, but I feel the need to point out that she's married to you, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

"I don't want to tell her that."  
"Dean."  
"No, I don't … if I'm going to go along with what you said, to give it another chance and do it right this time, I don't want her to feel obligated in any way. I don't want her with me just because some stupid piece of paper says she has to be."

Sam had a bad feeling about this. But when Dean grabbed his jacket, those emerald eyes full of pain and the tiniest spark of hope …

"Please, Sammy. Don't tell her, and don't let anyone else tell her either."  
"Okay, okay. We … we won't tell. I'd like to make it known that I do not agree with this, but … I'll back your play."

Dean nodded, letting out a long breath. Sam patted his back, then moved to stand beside him. He pulled his jacket closer around him.

"Come on. Peyton's probably wondering where we are."

Dean nodded again, the tiniest smile on his face. He kicked the can once more, then slid his hands in his pockets. He stopped, looking up at Sam.

"You go ahead. I just … need a second."

Sam nodded slowly.

"I'll wait for you at the end of the alley."

Dean nodded, and Sam walked ahead, hands in his pockets, long legs eating up the ground. Dean snorted and shook his head, then turned away, where Sam would only be able to see his back, should he turn around. Dean reached into his pocket, pulling his wedding ring out and staring at it. The gold circle gleamed in the little bit of sunlight, and Dean smiled. It hurt his heart to see the ring, to remember the day she'd given it to him.

But it was different now. The hurt was not so bad, but the anticipation was killing him. He reached shaky hands up and undid the chain from around his neck, slipping his ring onto it, smiling when the metal gave an almost-silent clink against the other "charms" on his necklace. He fixed the chain under his shirt, giving it a touch as he closed his eyes.

He opened them again, turning and walking to the end of the alley, meeting up with his brother and walking back to the place they'd meandered away from.

* * *

There were more people in the house when Sam and Dean walked inside. Voices filled the kitchen, distinctly female. Sam started to head up the stairs, and Dean made a motion towards the hallway. Sam nodded, jogging up the rest of the way while Dean started walking in the opposite direction from the noise.

"Oh, sorry."

A young girl with blonde hair looked up at him, blinking hazel eyes. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him, and Dean fought back a smile. He cleared his throat, and after a moment, she met his eyes again.

"Can you tell me where the bathroom is?"

She stared at his mouth while he talked, and he looked to the side, uncomfortable. He met her eyes again, raising his eyebrows, and she shook her head, a puzzled look crossing her face. Dean decided to try again.

"Bathroom?"

Realization hit the girl, and she nodded. She pointed down the hall she'd just come from, holding up three fingers, then pointing to the left. Dean nodded, and the girl walked away. He turned and watched her go, flinching when a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by an equally loud "Sorry!" The girl never reacted, and Dean shook his head, walking down the hall.

"She had to mean third door on the left, right?"

He stopped there, knocking once, then pushing open the door. He felt around for the light switch, jumping when the door slammed behind him. He bumped into a shelf, pulling his lighter from his pocket and seeing canned food in front of him.

"Crap. Wrong door."

He slid the lighter back in his pocket, cursing himself for a moment. Why put the lighter up when he still had to find the door? He rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head, feeling for the door when he heard footsteps come down the hall. He took a step back as the door opened.

"Let me grab the tomatoes and I'll be right back. Don't let the sauce burn!"

That voice. That voice was … _Oh god_. There she was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter out. I've picked up a couple of fandom writing contests for this summer and my brain's going crazy with different ideas. So it might be a little while between chapters, but that's nothing you guys aren't used to. Sorry about that, by the way. Anywho, let me know what you think about this!**

_Chapter Ten_

Somehow, the girls had talked Meredith into trying out a new pasta recipe from Jackie's book. It called for a basic red sauce, but the meatballs would be the tricky part. They had most of the ingredients at the house, but they still needed to stop by the store and pick up a few things.

When they got to the house, it was quiet. Alex was nowhere to be found, but his office door was shut, which meant business. Meredith and the girls decided to set up shop in the kitchen, starting out on their new dinner recipe, with Charlie and Eva taking bets on whether or not pizza would need to be ordered as a backup.

"Mer, I thought you said we had tomatoes."  
"We do. Are there none in the fridge?"

Charlie shook her head, and Meredith closed one eye.

"I bet they're in the pantry, because no one ever remembers my grocery system."  
"It's a crazy system!"

Meredith turned back to glare at the three voices that had risen in complaint. She pointed at them, and they erupted into giggles. Meredith rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"All right, I'll go see what I can find. In the meantime, Charlie. We need one of those big colanders for the pasta."

The look on Charlie's face made Meredith stop and sigh.

"Strainer? The big bowl with all the holes in it."

Realization hit Charlie, and her dark eyes lit up. She nodded and turned away, and Meredith slowly shook her head, sighing again as she turned to the others.

"Eva, you can wash your hands and get started on the garlic bread. Jackie, keep doing what you're—"

Dishes clattered down from the cabinet, and a sheepish Charlie looked over at them.

"Sorry!"

Julia stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the dishes on the floor, none of which were broken. Meredith signed some things to her, then turned back to the other girls.

"Charlie, you and Julia wash those dishes that touched the floor. It's a clean floor, but still. I'll go find the tomatoes; try and follow the recipe for the other stuff."

Meredith shook her head, pulling her sweater tighter around her as she left the kitchen, walking down to the pantry.

"Mer, what if—"  
"Let me grab the tomatoes and I'll be right back. Don't let the sauce burn!"

Meredith gave a shiver as she pushed open the door, reaching up and pulling the string that turned on the light and bumping into something firm. Her feet twisted up, and she stumbled as the door closed behind her. As warm hands grasped her elbows, keeping her upright, Meredith realized the firm thing she'd bumped into was a person.

"Oh, I am so sorry! I didn't know …"

Her words trailed off as she lifted her eyes, locking onto a strangely familiar emerald green. Her mouth fell open slightly, as her hands raised until she rested them against his chest. She blinked, unable to take her eyes from his face.

"You."

His eyes widened. He shook his head just the slightest bit, and Meredith smiled.

"You're the man from my dreams."  
"What?"

He smiled as he said the word, and Meredith's smile grew at the sound of his deep, rough voice, as a shiver ran through her body. He blinked, gently rubbing her arms.

"Cold?"

Meredith looked down at his chest, where her hands still rested, then back up to his face.

"I'm always cold."

His eyes seemed to bore straight through her, but it wasn't as odd as it should have been. She didn't feel nervous or uncomfortable. In fact … Almost without thinking about it, she lifted her hand, laying it gently against his cheek. She smiled at the tickle of his beard against her palm, gently scratching her nails through the coarse hair on his face.

"I keep seeing you, in my … in my dreams. You …"

She shook her head slowly as his eyes drifted closed. They opened again when she slowly moved her thumb across his full bottom lip. She shook her head.

"I know you. I don't know how; I—I can't remember how, but …"

His lips trembled as her thumb continued tracing. She let her hand fall, resting back against his chest. Thick, rough-palmed hands left her elbows, moving to cover her hands. Meredith let out a shaky breath, lifting her eyes to his. A warm, albeit small smile crossed his face, and he slowly leaned his head towards her. Meredith sucked in a breath, watching as his lips grew closer and closer to her, and she tilted her head, eyes drifting closed as she could feel his breath against her lips.

"Mer, I can't find any oregano!"

Meredith jumped, eyes wide as the man leaned back from her, sticking close enough to stare into her eyes.

"Meredith?"

She let out a breath, taking a step back from the man, pushing a hand through her hair. She took another step away from him, laying one hand against the door, the other against her heart.

"Did you—did you check the cabinet?"  
"Yes, but Devon saw his mom today, and now—"  
"Everything's alphabetized."

Meredith blew out a breath, glancing back at the man, who kept his green eyes on her. She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes and holding a hand at the back of her head.

"I'll be there in just a second. Okay, Charlie?"  
"Okay."

Meredith looked over at the man, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry. I—"  
"Don't … don't apologize. It's okay."

She shook her head again, opening the door and walking out of the pantry, towards the kitchen.

"_Nothing will ever take me away from you, I swear."_

She let out a breath, wincing once, laying the palm of her hand against the wall.

"… _you screwed me up. In the best possible way, of course."_

Meredith gasped, pressing a hand to her forehead. She grabbed onto the doorframe of the kitchen, shaking her head slowly.

"… _what you feel, I feel."_

Meredith squeezed her eyes shut.

"_Don't fight for me. Don't try to protect me."  
"You want me to let you just run off, without any protection?"  
"At least then it won't be you!"_

Meredith was breathing hard, tiny whimpers coming from her.

"Please stop. God, please. Make it stop."

"_Good morning, sunshine."_

Meredith stepped into the kitchen, gripping hard onto the counter. Charlie stepped over, laying a hand on her back, causing Meredith to suck in a breath.

"Mer? Are you okay?"

She managed to shake her head minutely, and Charlie glanced around at the empty kitchen. Charlie let out a breath.

"Can I help you? Do you want me to—to get Alex?"

Meredith blew out a breath.

"He … he's here."  
"Who's here?"

Meredith's eyes stayed closed as she gripped onto the kitchen counter. Charlie spoke quietly as she could.

"Meredith, who's here?"  
"The man from … from my dreams."  
"He's here?"

Meredith groaned, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. Charlie was gently rubbing her back, and Meredith let out another quiet moan.

"Mer, what … Who is he? What's his name?"  
"Wh—what?"

Meredith gasped as images flew through her mind. Green eyes, sometimes sparkling, sometimes narrowed in anger, one time filled with tears. Soft lips, murmuring her name, calling out for her. Calloused hands, entwined with hers, reaching out for her, holding her, drying her tears.

"Meredith?"

Charlie's voice broke through the flashes of images, the distorted jumble of voices rolling through her mind. Meredith reached out and grabbed her hand, and Charlie spoke again.

"Who is he? What's his name?"

Meredith gasped, and ocean blue eyes flew open.

"Dean."

Charlie's eyes widened, and she gasped as Melinda collapsed against her.

* * *

Dean was shaking. His entire body was trembling, and he couldn't do anything except back himself up against the wall, then slide down it until he was sitting on the floor. He drew up his knees, resting his elbows on his thighs and putting his head in his hands.

Oh, god. _Christ_, she was alive. _Melinda_ was alive. It _was_ her. Any lingering doubt he may have had was just blown to bits.

He looked at his hands, shaking his head.

He'd touched her. She'd touched him.

She _knew_ him.

Okay, so she didn't know him. Not like before. But what had she said? She dreamed about him? That had to mean something. That was so fucking significant it wasn't even funny. She couldn't tell anyone her name or how old she was, but she dreamed about Dean.

He lifted his hand to the chain around his neck, closing his eyes as a smile spread across his face.

_She was alive. _

His eyes flew open when he heard the scream.

He got to his feet before it even registered, throwing open the door and running down the hall. He came to a hard stop at the kitchen, somewhere he'd never been before but knew where it was like he'd built the place, and grabbed onto the doorframe. A girl with fiery red hair looked up, shock covering her face when she met his eyes.

"Who the hell are you?"

He ignored her question. Not on purpose, but because he didn't hear it. His entire brain function had all but ceased when he saw the figure lying on the floor, blonde head nestled in the girl's lap. Dean hit his knees beside them, reaching out and grabbing Melinda's wrist. He closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief when he felt the steady thump of her heart.

"Shit, she's freezing."  
"No kidding. Who are you again?"

Dean glanced up at the girl, then moved to gather Melinda in his arms. He stopped when her head hit his shoulder, when she gave a quiet exhale and moved the tiniest bit closer to him. He smiled, looping her arms around his neck and lifting her.

He frowned at how light she felt in his arms, then looked down to the gaping mouth of the girl still huddled on the floor.

"Where's her bedroom?"

When he didn't get an answer and the girl kept staring, Dean cleared his throat.

"Hey."

He gave a sharp whistle, and the girl jumped, closing her mouth, looking up at him.

"Bedroom?"  
"Up the stairs, take a right, last door at the end of the hallway."

Dean nodded, carrying Melinda up the stairs, easily maneuvering her in his arms to open the door. He shut it behind him, walking over and laying her gently on the bed before going to close the curtains. He pushed a hand through his hair and walked back over, to where she was curled up in a ball, shivering and moaning in pain.

"Christ, baby."

He knelt down, lifting a hand before settling it down on the bed. He shook his head, lifting the hand again, ignoring the way it shook, then placed it on her head. She went still, and Dean gently moved his fingers through her hair.

It was a lot shorter than it had been. He wasn't exactly a fan of short hair, but she … She was beautiful. He smiled when he came to the realization that it didn't matter if her hair was long or short or nonexistent. Being without her made him see that he didn't care what she looked like, as long as she was near him.

"I … I missed you. I was so scared I'd never get to see you again. But here you are. And I don't …"

He blew out a breath.

"I don't care what I have to do. I'm not leaving you again. I will … I will fight that Alex guy."

He hadn't really thought about Alex. Before, he'd been all ready to walk away if they were together. And it was pretty obvious they were together. But … she was his wife. He'd loved her for nearly ten years, and he couldn't just stop. He'd tried, but even death couldn't keep them apart.

"You might love him, and he obviously loves you, but baby … I can't just step aside. Not for you. Not my Mel."

So, he'd fight fair, and he'd give the guy a run for his money. At the end of the day, though, Dean was fairly certain he knew the outcome. He smiled again, keeping his hand moving through her soft, honey-colored hair.

"You just rest. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Dean let out a sigh, moving back on his heels. His hand moved from her hair, and he went still as a cool hand shot out to grasp his, a quiet moan leaving her lips. Dean dragged a chair over to the edge of the bed and took one of her hands in both of his.

"I got you, Mel. I'm right here."

* * *

Dean dozed a little bit, clutching Melinda's hand, and came back to consciousness when it was still dark outside. He lifted his wrist to stare blindly at his watch, until he thought to press the little light button. He squinted at the watch, glowing brightly in the dark of the room. Quarter 'til four. He yawned widely, shaking his head, finally realizing what it was that had woken him up.

Quiet little whimpers.

He looked to the bed, blinking before he sat up.

"Mel?"

She was huddled under the covers, shivering so violently the bed was moving. Dean swallowed as he leaned forward, reaching out and touching her forehead, yanking his hand back with a hiss at the absolute ice of her skin.

He didn't know what to do. He could clearly see now that she was crying. The whimpers were giving way to sobs, the shivering intensifying, if that was even possible. Dean shook out his hand, still stinging from the chill of her skin, and reached over to touch her hair.

"Easy, baby. Take it easy. It's all right."

He heard her choked sob from under the covers and he moved his hands to the top of her blankets, to rub at her arms that were underneath.

"Come on, baby. Please."

She gave a gasp as she sat up suddenly, blue eyes wide and scared as she looked around. Dean took hold of her shaking hands, holding them gently, but tightly. He stared into her eyes, blue saucers that were too big, pupils too dilated, looking altogether too terrified right now.

"It's okay. Everything's all right."

She seemed to break at that, falling forward until her forehead was on his shoulder, and her hands were fisted in the front of his shirt. She was crying, nearly as hard as she'd been while she was asleep, sobbing quietly while he gently rubbed at her back.

"It was just a dream, Mel. It's okay. I'm here."

She let out a sob at that, shaking her head, moving closer to him. She stopped halfway there and leaned back, eyes closing as her hands went to her head with a moan. She hissed in pain when her fingers brushed against her temples. She gave another whimper and he moved forward, sticking as close as he could without touching her.

"What can I do? Baby, talk to me. Please."

She gave a minute shake of her head, reaching over and lacing her fingers through his. She gave a broken moan at that, eyes still screwed shut.

"I'm cold. So—so cold."  
"Can I get you another blanket? Turn the heat up? Something?"  
"Your—your hand."

He glanced down, noticing the death grip she had his left hand in. Her voice was barely even a whisper, and he had to lean in closer, his ear almost at her lips, to even hear her.

"I don't know why … but your hand … if I hold it … my hand isn't cold."

Dean swallowed, reaching around to let his the tips of his fingers trail over her shoulder. She gave a hard shudder, moaning again, until he settled his hand there. She gasped, face screwed up in pain, and he watched as the pain slid from her face. He stood up as best he could with their positions like they were, and he moved behind her, sucking in a breath a second before his torso was pressed along her back. She cried out quietly, then seemed to melt back against him.

Dean closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her against him. Tears came to his eyes and he didn't even notice them. He never thought he'd ever have this again. He'd thought he lost her. And then to find out that she was alive, but didn't know him…

Dean moved closer to her, gently rubbing his hands down her arms. She shook with the slow touches, before her head fell back onto his shoulder. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, with his nose in her hair. Her hair smelled different now. Flowery, instead of fruity. But she still felt so good. She felt like …

Home.

She yawned, and he smiled, moving to press his lips to the knob of her shoulder. She gave a tremble at that, before her cool hand lifted to press against his cheek. His hand lifted to cover hers, and she gasped quietly, before his warmth seemed to seep into her.

"Lie down."

She blinked open sleepy eyes and he smiled again.

"I'm not going anywhere, and you'll be sore as hell if you sleep sitting up."

She swallowed and he gently touched her chin.

"What is it?"  
"When I move … my head … it'll hurt."

Dean nodded, sighing quietly.

"We'll go slow."  
"It hurts so bad."  
"I know. But I'm here. I've got you."

She let out a shaking breath and started to lay back. Dean's heart broke with every whimper she gave, every time she cried out, with every tear that leaked from her closed eyes. He whispered to her as best he could, touching her as much as possible. When she was finally lying flat, tears soaking her cheeks, Dean stood up, to kick off his shoes. He went still, watching as she started trembling again, almost as violently as she'd done while she was asleep. Blue eyes blinked up at him, silently begging for help, and Dean's brain shut off.

He moved on autopilot, tugging back the covers and climbing under them with her. She gasped quietly, but he paid it no mind as he wrapped her up in his arms much like they had been, her back to his chest. She squirmed in his arms, little harsh pants of breath coming from her lips, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she moved around until she was all but burrowed beneath him.

Dean gave in, pressing his cheek to hers. She let out a quiet moan, then sighed. She was plastered against him now, breathing getting slower and deeper, and he let his hands rest against her head. She sucked in a breath, body tensing, and just as quickly, relaxing as a pleased sigh seemed to bubble up from her toes. Dean smiled, letting his eyes drift closed.

Until she whispered, just as she fell asleep.

"Thank you, Dean."

Green eyes flew open, taking a second to adjust to the dark. He pushed himself up, looking down at her, but she was asleep. The left side of her body started to tremble, and he let himself relax some, his body coming into contact with hers again. She sighed, moving closer to him, if that would have been physically possible.

He hadn't told her his name. …Had he? No. No, he definitely had not. And no one else knew his name here, except for Sam and Peyton and—

Oh, crap.

He glanced down again, at the woman snuggled up to his chest, the way he was all but lying on top of her. He wanted to feel bad. Really, he did.

But he didn't.

If this Alex guy was her guy, then why was she sleeping in a room by herself? Why wouldn't he be in there with her, in case she had a nightmare or something? Case in point, what had just happened.

Dean shook his head, looping his arms around her and rolling to his back. She moaned quietly, then snuggled in impossibly closer, hand gripping his shirt, cheek resting just to the north of his heart. One of his hands lifted of its own accord, gently brushing through the short crop of her hair.

God, she was beautiful. And she was alive. Back in his arms, where she belonged. Dean stared up at the ceiling, maybe expecting the answer to be written there in the plaster? He sighed, resting back, closing his eyes as his arms tightened around her just a bit. And for the first time that night, something registered with him.

She was warm.

* * *

The first thing that registered in Meredith's mind as she slowly made her way back to consciousness was that her head rested against something soft, yet firm. It was dark and that was comforting, but the thing that made her open her eyes was the fact that for the first time in six months, the all-encompassing cold that enveloped her body was broken, and she actually felt warm.

She slowly blinked her eyes open, waiting for the excruciating pain to attack her skull, but it never came. She closed her eyes again, then slowly opened them, staring at the wall. She was lying on her side, something she didn't normally do, and when the soft, yet firm thing she was resting on gave a sleep-soaked murmur and shifted in the bed, her blue eyes went wide.

She wasn't alone in the bed. Memories of the night before began to seep into her mind, and for the first time, they were not accompanied by fiery, stabbing pain. She slowly lifted her gaze from the bearded chin, past plump lips, up to long eyelashes, taking in every aspect of the unfamiliar body beneath hers.

No, not unfamiliar.

_Dean_.

She smiled, thinking of the dreams she'd had, and a blush warmed her cheeks when she thought back to the night before. He hadn't been phased by her. He was clearly uncomfortable when she was in pain, and it was quite obvious that if he could have traded places with her, he would have in a heartbeat.

She gave a shiver and a yawn, looking through the darkness until she saw the muted light of the clock on her dresser. Much too early to actually be of any worth. Meredith shifted, moving closer to Dean, and he murmured in his sleep, tightening his grip on her and sighing. She rubbed the end of her nose with her palm before she yawned again, and she let her arms slip around him as she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Dean's brain woke up long before the rest of him did. That was usually the way it went these days. He'd think of Melinda, keeping his eyes closed and believing that just maybe—for a short minute or two—she was asleep right beside him.

Today, though, he wasn't _just_ believing it.

He blinked his eyes open, emerald gaze growing wide when he saw her, cuddled up on his chest. She was just to the left of his heart, cool arms wrapped around him. Her soft hands had found their way up under his shirt, and he could feel her palms against the sleep-warm skin of his lower back.

He closed his eyes, all kinds of emotions pounding through him at once. She was alive. She was here. He had her in his arms. He let out a quiet laugh, bending to brush his lips across her cool forehead.

And then he remembered.

She was alive, but she didn't remember anything. She didn't remember him.

But wait, she'd said his name last night.

And she'd told him that she's dreamed about him.

What did that mean?

And then the face of the man who'd said that he loved her flashed in Dean's mind and he couldn't take it. He extricated himself from her hold on him, hating himself and doing his best to ignore her quiet sounds of protest. He slid his boots on and left the room with all the stealth John Winchester had drilled into him from an early age, pushing his hands through his hair as he paced the hallway outside her room.

He blew out a breath and quietly made his way downstairs, hearing voices coming from the kitchen. He found his jacket on a hook beside the front door and slid it over his shoulders as he walked out the door.

* * *

Alex poured another cup of coffee and glanced out the window above the kitchen sink. Piles of snow were all over the backyard. It wasn't currently snowing, but low-hanging clouds threatened to change that at any second. He smiled when he thought of the date, but the smile slid from his face when he glanced over his shoulder.

The kids sat at the long table. No one was talking, or laughing. They all stared at their bowls, because no one—including Alex—trusted Alex to cook. So, cereal it was. Alex sighed, reaching a hand up to push through his hair.

"Come on, guys."

Heads lifted all around the table, somber, sad eyes looking up at him.

"We all hoped something like this was coming. This is Meredith's family. Sorry, Melinda."

Charlie shook her head, propping her cheek on her fist as she swirled her spoon around her bowl. Eva kept glancing around, not saying a word, but watching intently between bites. Jackie sighed as she sat back in her chair, pushing her bowl forward.

"This is … this is supposed to be a good thing, isn't it?"

Alex looked over to Devon and nodded.

"Yeah. This is her family."  
"And they want her?"

Alex swallowed as he looked Steven's way. The boy wouldn't look at him, but Alex watched as Jake reached under the table and took Steven's hand.

"Yeah, they do."  
"So where the hell have they been for the past six months?"

Alex blinked as Ricky forcefully pushed his chair back from the table. Alex sighed, walking over and kneeling in front of Ricky.

"They didn't have any idea where she was or if she was even alive, bud. When they heard she might be here, they flew all the way from California."

The boy refused to look at him, tears in his dark eyes, and Alex kept his voice gentle.

"We need to be polite towards them."  
"Because they're her family?"  
"Because they're _people_."

Ricky sniffled, looking down at his hands.

"What if they take her away?"  
"Rick, she hasn't even met them yet."

Alex glanced at Charlie once he spoke, and she met his eyes before she looked back at her cereal. Alex sighed, patting Ricky's knee.

"Don't put the cart before the horse, all right?"

Alex looked over when Eva spoke softly.

"I don't know what that means?"

Alex smiled, standing up and wincing at the pain that shot through his knees. He was getting too old for that crap.

"'Don't put the cart before the horse' means … you know. Don't get ahead of yourself. A cart before a horse doesn't do any good. It won't go anywhere. The horse has to be in front for the cart to move."

Eva nodded, and Alex sighed.

"Come on, guys. Please perk up. She's still here, and she's not going anywhere for a while. Her family will be back later today to talk to her some. And besides that, it's a holiday!"

Heads lifted from the table again, and Alex laughed.

"It's New Year's Eve, guys! And I am declaring now that anyone in bed before midnight gets sent to the dungeon."  
"We don't have a dungeon."  
"Do not underestimate me. I will find one and throw you in it."

The girls giggled and Alex smiled. Julia walked into the kitchen and motioned to him, and Alex ruffled Ricky's hair as he walked to her. She signed a few things to him and Alex nodded slowly, signing back to her. After a minute, Alex poked his head back into the kitchen.

"Hey, guys?"

The kids all turned to look at him.

"I've got to step out for a little bit. I've got my phone if you need me, and try and let Mer—Melinda sleep, okay? If she gets up before I get back, do not mention anything about her family or any of it, okay?"  
"Why not?"  
"She's going to have questions you guys can't answer. I'll talk to her as soon as I get back here. Be good and quiet."

They all nodded, and Alex met Elise and Patrick's eyes. They nodded, and Alex nodded back before he jogged up to his room. He changed out of his sleep pants into a pair of jeans, exchanging the old t-shirt he slept in for a plain white one, under a thick NYFD sweatshirt. He tugged a beanie over his hair and shoved his feet into a pair of Chucks. Not ideal for a wintry day in New York City, but the shoes would do. He wrapped a scarf around his throat and grabbed a pair of gloves from the pocket of his coat, slipping them and the coat on before he stepped out the door.

* * *

Dean smoked while he walked, looking in through the windows of different shops. He stopped outside a Starbucks, planning to finish his cigarette before getting a cup of coffee. A big cup. Biggest one they had. He sighed, reaching a cold hand up to push through his hair. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and ignored it. Sam had called three times and left twice as many texts, but Dean just couldn't bring himself to answer.

His mind was back in that bed with Melinda. His heart, he suspected, was there as well. He couldn't calm his nerves, couldn't ease his racing mind. He took a long drag from the cigarette—his third, not that he was counting—and held it in his lungs before he slowly exhaled.

"That's bad for you, you know."

Dean couldn't help the small smile on his face as he glanced over, to see the man who was leaning up against the building beside him. Dean glanced down at the cigarette between his fingers and he flicked it, watching the ash drift down to the ground.

"Yeah, I know."

Alex bit his lip before he spoke again.

"Could you tell me something?"

Dean glanced over, raising an eyebrow.

"Ab—about her. Anything."

Dean glanced out across the street, watching the crowd of people move towards the middle of Times Square. He took one last drag from his cigarette, dropping it and crushing it with the toe of his boot before he exhaled.

"She's … everything. She's beautiful and kind, but you already know that. She loves things that sparkle. Her favorite color is pink, but if you ask her, she'll say something different, something to make her seem not so predictable."

Dean smiled.

"She's got two older brothers who adore her. Parents who worship her. Two aunts and uncles, a shit-ton of cousins, and one niece who thinks she walks on water."  
"And you."

Dean looked over, meeting Alex's sad, dark eyes.

"She's got you."

Dean blinked, nodding his head.

"Yeah, she's got me."

Alex smiled a sad smile, nodding his head.

"I don't even know you, but that's somehow comforting."

Dean glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you—"  
"It's freezing out here. Come on. I'll buy."

Alex ducked into the Starbucks, and Dean shrugged his shoulders as he followed. The coffee—regular black, not some fancy Sammy-type cappuccino, thank God—was as close to perfection as Dean could imagine. He sipped it slowly, watching as Alex emptied sugar packets in his cup. They sat in a table near the window, where Dean could watch the bustle of a New York City morning. They were quiet for a while, just sipping their coffees, until Dean spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?"

Alex nodded.

"What's the deal with you and her?"  
"Me and Mer?"

Dean watched as he sighed, shaking his head.

"Damn it. Her name's Melinda. Melinda."

Alex sighed again.

"I found her. I've felt responsible for her ever since. She's wonderful."

A soft smile crossed his face.

"She takes care of me and the kids, cooks for us, since if it was up to me, we'd all starve."

He laughed to himself.

"I told the kids earlier to relax, that she wasn't going anywhere, and here I am, feeling like she's slipping away and there's nothing I can do to hold onto her."

Alex blinked back tears, and Dean sat up, clearing his throat.

"Listen, man. I'm not trying to take her from you. If she wants to stay, then I'll get Sammy and Peyton and we'll be out of your hair."

Alex snorted.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You love her too much to just walk away."  
"You love her, too."

Alex looked down at his cup, then met Dean's eyes.

"Not like you do."

Dean's eyes narrowed, and Alex blinked before he leaned back in his seat. A smile crossed his lips before he let out a laugh.

"Oh, man. You—you think …"

Alex laughed again, shaking his head. He let out a breath, laughing to himself.

"Dean …"

He sat up, smiling widely as he leaned over the table, resting his forearms on it.

"I'm gay."

Dean's eyes went wide, and the smile seemed to grow on Alex's face.

"Are you serious?"  
"Pretty sure."

Dean dragged a hand down his face and Alex leaned back in his chair, throwing his head back as he laughed. When he had calmed down, he sat back in his chair, shaking his head.

"That's why you ran out of my office yesterday. You asked me if I loved her and when I said yes, you thought I meant romantically."  
"It didn't make any sense to me that she wouldn't have found someone."

Alex nodded.

"She is an extraordinary woman. And she's had a few dates, but nothing that meant anything. She always felt guilty afterwards, even though she couldn't put into words exactly why she felt that way."

Alex looked up, meeting Dean's eyes.

"Any ideas as to why that would be?"

Dean blinked, then shook his head. Alex nodded slowly, pursing his lips.

"Okay."

He obviously had a problem with Dean's answer, but he wasn't going to push it. Dean glanced out the window again, watching as hordes of people walked by. He glanced down at his watch and sat back in his chair. Alex smiled, taking the last sip of his coffee.

"Let me guess. You just realized it's New Year's Eve."

Dean nodded.

"Well. I have a great idea, and I'd love to let you in on it, if you'd oblige me."

Dean looked over, meeting Alex's gaze. Alex smiled.

"I'll spring for another cup."

Dean smiled.

"You've got yourself a deal."

* * *

Alex and Dean walked in to see the kids huddled together on the couch, watching a movie, stuffing their faces with grilled cheese sandwiches. Alex raised an eyebrow and Charlie glanced back with a wide smile.

"Mer's in a cooking mood! She said to send you her way and if you're lucky, you'd get a sandwich."  
"Two kinds of cheeses, Alex. Hope you're lucky, man."

Alex snorted at Devon as he untied the scarf from his neck and slid the gloves off his fingers. He hung his jacket up, motioning for Dean to do the same. Dean followed him into the kitchen, coming to a hard stop when he saw her, wearing jeans that hugged her legs like a second skin and a thickly knit gray turtleneck sweater. She glanced back from the stove, a wide smile crossing her face.

"Hey! I was wondering where you'd gone off to. Hungry?"

Alex nodded, walking over and looking over her shoulder. She bumped him with her hip before she spoke.

"Everybody got a sandwich, and they're welcome to come back for another. Same goes for you. I've got pie crust rising in the fridge and cookies in the oven. Kiss."

Alex smiled as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. He rested a hand on the small of her back and she flipped the sandwiches she had in the pan in front of her.

"Yes. Suck it."

Alex let out a laugh.

"You've been busy."  
"I slept amazingly well last night."

She glanced over her shoulder, beautiful blue eyes landing on Dean, the first acknowledgement she'd given him. She smiled, glancing at the sandwiches once more before she turned around.

"You gonna stand there all day?"

Dean looked down, fighting back the tears that were suddenly at his eyes. He swallowed before he looked back up, and he smiled softly at her. He walked into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together, and he looked down at them before he lifted his eyes again.

She stepped into his arms without either one of them really realizing it. She let out a shaky breath when his strong arms came around her, and he closed his eyes when her cool hands brushed through the hair on the back of his head. He tightened his hold on her just a bit, pulling her even closer, and she closed her eyes as she turned to nudge his jaw with her nose.

Alex turned away from them, fishing the sandwiches from the pan and turning off the stove.

Dean just held her, pushing the material of her sweater beneath his fingers. He blinked his eyes open when her soft voice sounded just beside his ear.

"You looked like you needed this."  
"I did."  
"I did, too."

She shivered when he turned and pressed his lips against her temple. She stepped back from him, smiling as her cheeks went pink. She kept her hand on his shoulder, motioning towards the table. Alex turned back from the stove, sandwich and a handful of potato chips on a plate in his hand.

"I've got some paperwork and stuff to go over. I'll be in the office if you need me."

She nodded, and he kissed her cheek before he left the room. After a moment, she turned to Dean, who gave her a smile. He followed her to the stove, watching as she grabbed a plate and slid his sandwich onto it. She reached for the bag of chips, and he just couldn't help himself anymore.

He reached out, letting his hand come to rest at her hip. She sucked in a breath, faltering in her movements. She turned her head, meeting his eyes. He gave her a smile, and she swallowed, feeling the heat of his hand even through her clothes. She gave a shaky breath, holding the plate she'd fixed in her hand.

"I … here."

He smiled, taking the plate from her.

"Thank you."

He turned and walked to the table, and she gripped the counter. After a moment, she followed him, taking the seat across from him. He lifted the sandwich and took a bite, letting out a sigh. She couldn't help but smile.

"Good?"

He nodded, giving her a thumb's up, and she smiled. After a few minutes, where he ate and she sat and sipped from a mug, she tucked her legs up under her in the chair.

"Can we talk?"

Dean nodded again, chewing a mouthful of chips. Neither of them spoke for a moment, until her soft voice rang out.

"Thank you … for staying with me last night."

Dean smiled to himself, looking down at his plate.

"Did it help?"

When she didn't answer, he looked up, meeting her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, before her lips curled into a small smile.

"More than you know."

Dean gave her a half-smile, reaching up and scratching his chin. Her eyes focused there, before she let herself look over the red-tinted beard on his face. He let her look for a moment, before he spoke softly.

"You know who I am?"

She blinked, meeting his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"I don't know. I mean, you're very familiar to me. And I have dreamed about you. But it's never in a way where I would see you and go, 'Oh, yes. He's … whatever to me.'"

Dean nodded, feeling his heart slip down in his chest.

"All I know is that you make me feel safe. It doesn't hurt around you. And you … You make me feel warm. No one else has done that, not that I can remember."

He nodded again, a sad smile on his face as he looked down at his empty plate. She went on, speaking softly.

"You're from my—my past, right?"

He nodded, closing his eyes when she spoke again.

"Tell me something. Please. Any—anything."

He looked up, seeing her sitting there with tears in her eyes, and something inside him broke. He stood up and walked over to her, kneeling beside her chair. She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, letting out quiet little sobs. He lifted a hand to rest on her forehead before he pushed it through her hair.

"Shh. It's okay."

She nodded, and when she'd calmed a bit, he spoke. Somehow, his voice was steady.

"Melinda."

He felt her head move under his chin, and he smiled as he leaned back, looking down at her while she stared up at him. He moved his hand to brush through her hair again.

"That's your name, sweetheart. Melinda."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"_Hello?"  
_"Sammy, hey."  
_"Dean. How's … how's it going?"_

Dean shook his head, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"Not too good, little brother. That's kind of why I'm calling. I know you and Peyton were coming by today, but I … I don't think that's a good idea."  
_"Is she all right?"_

Dean blinked. He shook his head, letting out a sigh.

"… Can you get Peyton to just wait and come over tomorrow?"  
_"Dean, she really wants to see Mel."  
_"I know she does. But … it's kind of overwhelming right now."  
_"So you can stay, but it will be too 'overwhelming' for her to see Peyton?"_

Dean closed his eyes.

"Just a few minutes ago, I told her that her name was Melinda. You know what happened? She took off running. _Running_, Sam. You really want to spring the life story on her right now? Hell, maybe then she'll run all the way back to California."

Sam was quiet, and Dean shook his head, tossing his cigarette onto the ground.

"_We knew this was going to be difficult."  
_"Yeah, I know. Thanks for the reminder, Dr. Phil."

Sam blew out a breath.

"_I'll … I'll talk to Peyton."  
_"Tell her I'm sorry."  
_"It's not your fault, Dean. We'll go … check out New York. It'll be fine."_

Dean nodded, and Sam let out a sigh.

"_I'm sorry, Dean. Don't … don't give up on her, all right?"_

Dean closed his eyes, a soft, sad smile on his face.

"I can't do that, Sammy. Long as it takes, I'm never going to give up on her."

* * *

Meredith—no. _Melinda_ sat on the edge of her bed, tears dripping down her face. She shook her head, looking down at her hands, until the tears blurred her vision too much and she closed her eyes.

She hadn't meant to run out of the kitchen. She didn't even know why she had. It's not like he told her something she hadn't been ready for. This was a good thing! She knew her name, her real name that she'd been given when she was born, not the one Alex gave to her.

But instead of smiling, she'd pushed him aside, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs, closing the door behind her and sitting hard on the edge of the bed. She was freezing, entire body trembling as she hung her head, letting out quiet, gasping sobs.

There was a quiet knock at the door, but she couldn't make herself get up to answer it. The door opened anyway, and quiet footsteps barely made a sound on the floor. The bed creaked as someone sat down, and Melinda let out a sob before she leaned over, burying her face in Alex's sweater.

"Shh. It's okay."

She shook her head, leaning back up, pushing a hand through her hair.

"I don't know … why I ran. I—I'm not …"

She shook her head again, and Alex put his arm around her, gently kissing her temple.

"It's all right. This is … there's no right way to deal with this. He doesn't know what to say or how to say it to you, and you don't know how to process it. It's okay, Mer—Melinda."

That made the tears come, and she moved away from him, putting her head in her hands. Alex dragged a hand down his face, and he sighed. He gently rubbed her back, then spoke softly.

"Do you want me to go get him?"

She nodded, and Alex stood up. She listened to him leave the room, and a few minutes later, a new set of footsteps sounded. Heavy-soled boots made their way around the bed, until she saw those slightly bowed legs in front of her. She lifted her head, and he smiled softly, kneeling down until they were face-to-face.

She didn't say anything, and he didn't either. They just looked at each other, a soft smile on his face, until he lifted a hand, gently brushing her hair from her forehead. She flinched at the first touch, at the sudden warmth that shot through her, but closed her eyes, letting out a relieved sigh when he cupped her cheek in his warm hand. She leaned into the touch, and he leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I'm sorry."  
"Don't be."

She sucked in a breath when he moved to rest his forehead against hers, taking both of her hands in his. Neither of them spoke for a moment, until his low, deep voice rumbled through the silence.

"There's a lot you need to know, but you don't have to hear it until you're ready. I'm here as long as you'll let me be. We've got time. If it's hard for you to process something, it's okay. We'll figure it out somehow."

She sniffled, but whispered softly.

"Okay."  
"Just do me a favor."

She blinked when he moved back, cupping her face in his hand again.

"Don't run away from me anymore, okay?"

She stared into those green eyes, a soft smile coming to her face. She nodded, and he smiled back at her.

"Okay."

He stood up, groaning softly, and she smiled, pulling her legs up onto the bed and sitting Indian-style. She sniffled again, and he stretched his arms out. He walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain and glancing out at the city. Melinda watched him, a soft smile on her face, until she quietly cleared her throat.

"So … what else do you want to tell me?"

He looked down, smiling at the windowsill, then lifted his head.

"Nothing."

She blinked, tilting her head.

"'Nothing'?"

He glanced over his shoulder, pursing his lips and shaking his head.

"Nothing today. If you remember something, we'll talk about it. Otherwise…"  
"You can't just not tell me anything when I have a fit or whatever I did earlier."

He let go of the curtain, walking back over and sitting down on the bed beside her. He turned his hand palm-up on his thigh, and she reached over, lacing her fingers between his. He smiled, giving her hand a squeeze.

"I'm not trying to keep anything from you. I just … I don't know how to do this. I don't know what to just tell you, what to ease you into knowing. I don't want you to run, but I don't want you to resent me, either."

She nodded slowly, letting out a breath.

"It's sticky."

Dean laughed.

"It's very sticky. And anytime you need a break, you just say so, and I'll back off."

She nodded, not realizing the way she gripped his hand tighter once he said that. He blinked, turning to look at her. Their eyes held, and she smiled, almost involuntarily. She took in a breath, scooting just a little closer to him, slowly, gingerly resting her head on his shoulder. They both closed their eyes when she leaned against him, and Dean swallowed, fighting back tears. He let out a quiet laugh.

"You know …"

She blinked her eyes open.

"It is a holiday."

She moved her head to look at him, wrinkling her nose when his beard tickled her forehead. She sucked in a breath when she realized what he was talking about.

"It's New Year's Eve!"  
"It is."

He laughed, squeezing her hand again, and she turned her body to fit beside him. Dean let go of her hand, smiling at the little noise of discomfort she gave, wrapping his arm around her and lying back on the bed. Melinda gave a little murmur at that, rolling onto her side and molding her body into his side. He wrapped her up as best he could, resting his chin atop her head.

"Alex told me about this place. Said he had a little surprise for you, and he wants me to take you to it tonight."  
"You want to spend your New Year's Eve with me?"

_Every year for the rest of my life_—Dean swallowed the words before they could escape his lips, and he nodded.

"If you'll have me."

Melinda yawned, nodding her head.

"I think I'd like that."

* * *

Melinda sat at the vanity in her room, brushing blush onto her cheeks. A knock sounded at the door, a second before fiery red hair poked in. Melinda laughed.

"Come in, Charlie."

Charlie stepped in, closing the door behind her with her foot, since her hands were currently occupied with a long garment bag.

"What's in the bag?"

Charlie smiled widely.

"I'm so glad you asked. It's New Year's Eve! This is your present from Alex."  
"We don't give presents for New Year's Eve."  
"Well, Alex didn't get that memo. Open it!"

Melinda stood up, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked over to stand beside Charlie.

"It's a dress, isn't it?"  
"Don't guess! Just open it."

Melinda rolled her eyes, bumping Charlie with her hip before she walked to the bed. She unzipped the bag, pushing the sides apart, lifting a hand to her chest.

"Oh my god."  
"That thing is gorgeous!"

Melinda and Charlie exchanged an open-mouthed look, and Melinda shook her head.

"There's no way …"  
"Oh, come on. He's Alex Donaldson. _Of course _there's a way."

Melinda shook her head, and Charlie stepped up beside her, putting her arm around her shoulders.

"Come on. Let me help you put it on."

* * *

Dean stood at the bottom of the stairs, feeling like a nervous kid waiting for his prom date. He hadn't even gone to his prom. He'd dropped out before prom, thank God. And it's not like John would have let him spring for a tux. Dean had scraped and saved for Sam to get one, even if the little nerd hadn't enjoyed his prom. At least, that's what he told Dean, but Dean knew better.

He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, still amazed that Alex had managed to get him a tux for the night. But then again, as that little Charlie girl had told him, Alex _was_ Alex Donaldson, and things just happened for him.

He lifted his head at the clearing of a throat, to see the little redhead standing at the top of the stairs. Charlie smiled at him, leaning over the railing.

"Wait until you get a load of this."

Dean raised an eyebrow, a smile on his face.

Until Melinda stepped up beside Charlie.

The breath caught in his throat as the smile slid from his face. Dean just stared, captivated, mesmerized by the beauty before him. She was looking down, brushing at some invisible something on the skirt of the gorgeous dress that fit her like a second skin. Dean wasn't sure what color the dress was. He thought gold, but when she turned, the light made the dress seem rose-colored.

She lifted her head, and a soft smile crossed her face when she saw him. She gripped the bannister with one hand, lifting her skirt just a bit with her other hand, and made her way down the stairs. Dean saw a flash of a golden heel, and almost on instinct, he held out his hand when she reached the last step. She smiled, laying her hand in his and stood beside him.

"You look nice."

Dean glanced down, then shook his head.

"You look … My god, Mel."

She felt her cheeks grow warm, and Dean smiled, leaning forward and softly laying his lips against her cheek. Melinda's eyes drifted closed, and he leaned back, smiling when she blinked her eyes open to see him again.

"I'm just saying, is it really New Year's Eve if we don't watch Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve? I think not. It's traditi—whoa."

Dean and Melinda glanced back to see Alex standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes wide and mouth open. There was a group of kids behind him, all wearing similar shocked expressions. Dean cleared his throat, and Charlie bounced down the stairs.

"Don't they look awesome?"

Melinda laughed at the simultaneous nodding of heads.

"Stop staring at me like that."

They all blinked, and Dean stepped forward, offering Melinda his arm. She smiled at him as she slid her arm through his, and Alex smiled, stepping forward.

"You two have fun."  
"Alex, you—"  
"Hush."

He smiled at Melinda, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"I've got these yahoos to hang out with. You go enjoy the last night of 2010, huh?"

She smiled as she nodded at him, then turned to face Dean. He lifted his hand to gently pat hers, which was still in the crook of his arm, and he smiled, reaching to open the door and leading her outside.

* * *

After a dinner of tiny portions and questionable ingredients, Dean nursed a glass of bourbon while watching Melinda. A forgotten glass of champagne sat on a small table near her, as she stared down at the chaos below them. She had both hands resting on the window, and Dean could see the smile on her face through her reflection in the glass.

"It's always crazy like this on New Year's."

She didn't pose her statement as a question, but Dean could sense the uncertainty in her tone. He took a sip of his drink and she glanced over her shoulder at him. He smiled, nodding his head.

"New Year's is crazy, but it's especially chaotic here. New York is like the New Year's mecca for some reason."

Melinda nodded, turning back to the window as a shiver ran down her spine. Dean smiled, shrugging off his coat. He walked over to her, draping the suit jacket over her shoulders, and she looked up at him, smiling softly. She lifted her hand to touch his fingertips, closing her eyes as she shuddered once, then blinking them back open and smiling up at him.

"Thank you."  
"You're welcome."

Their sentences were barely whispers, and this time, Dean stayed behind her, looking over her shoulder down at the crowd. He kept his voice low, and she giggled to herself when the heat of his breath tickled the back of her neck.

"You want to go down there?"

She shook her head.

"There's way too many people. I mean, look how far down the street they are. There's no way they can even see the ball when it drops. No, I'm just fine right here."

Dean smiled.

"Good. Because it's also cold as balls out there."

Melinda laughed out loud, glancing up over her shoulder, meeting his smiling face. His smile seemed to soften, and he lifted his hand, gently running the backs of his fingers over her cheek. Her eyes drifted shut, and she spoke softly.

"Can I ask you a question?"  
"Anything."

She blinked her eyes open, turning around to face him. She looked up at him, his eyes gentle as he took in the beauty of her face. She opened her mouth a few times, closing it almost as soon as she opened it. She took in a breath, then met his eyes again.

"You love me, don't you?"

Dean blinked, feeling his heart trip in his chest. He took in a breath, letting it out slowly before he nodded.

"Yeah, I do."

Melinda smiled, nodding her head.

"I thought so. You're not very good at hiding it."

Dean let out a laugh, and Melinda's smile warmed his heart. He reached out, touching her cheek again, then let his hand fall to his side.

"I don't want you to think you have to even give me the time of day if you don't want to. I don't want to pressure you or make you think you need to make me happy or whatever. If you want me to go, all you have to do is say the word."  
"And you'd go?"

Dean swallowed. He blinked a few times, then met her eyes.

"I would. If it's what you wanted."

It would suck. God, it would suck so bad, and he honestly might not make it. But he promised a long time ago that he'd do whatever he could to take care of her and make her happy, and if that was what she wanted, then he'd do it.

"Even though it would obviously kill you, you'd walk away if I said I wanted you to?"

Dean smiled, the sadness in his eyes tugging at her heart.

"Yeah, Mel. I would."

She nodded, blinking at the sudden rush of tears in her eyes. She stepped forward, and Dean closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. She moved around until she was pressed right against his chest, with her forehead at his neck, just under his jaw. Her eyes were closed and her arms were shaking slightly around him, and he gently rubbed her back.

"It's okay."

She shook her head, letting out a shaky breath.

"I just … I don't know."  
"I know. It's okay."

Dean turned his head just enough to kiss the top of her head. She swallowed, letting out a breath.

"I know that you love me. It's obvious. But I don't even know you."

Dean smiled through the pain that shot through his heart.

"That's okay."  
"How can that be okay?"

She shook her head, stepping away from him and walking over to the table, clutching the back of one of the chairs. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she jumped. Dean smiled from his place in front of her, letting out a laugh when she reached out and swatted his arm.

"Don't do that. Make noise when you move."

Images flashed like a ticking film strip in her mind, of the same exact thing that had just happened. Her, standing there, reaching out and swatting his arm, and him smiling and laughing. It was like looking through water, or a television full of snow, and she wasn't sure if Dean was even there at all.

She had a strong feeling that he was, though.

She stumbled, falling back into strong arms that were waiting there, ready to catch her. She felt herself being lowered to the ground and squeezed her eyes shut and moaned, feeling a rough, calloused palm gently caress her cheek. She shivered violently, then relaxed, feeling the warmth of his legs against her back, leaning into his touch on her face.

"Easy, Mel. Come back to me. Everything's all right."

She gave a quiet moan, slowly blinking her eyes open. She looked up into Dean's eyes, worry filling the pools of green. She gave a shiver, closing her eyes as she curled closer to him, and Dean gently ran his hand up and down her back.

"I'm here, Mel. Not going anywhere, okay?"

She nodded, moving a hand to touch his arm. They stayed that way for a while, on the ground while Dean just held her, until she finally blinked her eyes open. She looked up at Dean, who looked down at her, until she felt her cheeks flush. He cleared his throat, helping her to her feet, catching her when she swayed as she stood upright. They stayed that way for a while, Dean just holding her in the middle of the room, until the crowd outside began to get louder. Dean blinked as he glanced over, looking out the window, smiling when he saw the countdown clock.

"Hey."

Melinda pulled back a bit, blinking up at him. He moved his hand to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear and smiled.

"It's almost midnight."

Melinda turned from him, slowly making her way to the window and letting out a laugh.

"Look how crazy they're getting!"

Dean walked up behind her, laughing along with her. He shook his head, smiling before he started unconsciously mouthing along with the countdown. Melinda laughed to herself, turning back to the window, looking at the chaos below as it only grew, the crowd getting louder with every second they counted down.

She reached back, taking Dean's hand as the last ten seconds were counted off. They both whispered the last five seconds, and Melinda jumped, gasping in surprise when the fireworks started. She let out a laugh, pressing her hands against the window again, and Dean stood back, watching her instead of the celebration outside, until she turned to face him. He let out a quiet laugh at the wide smile on her face.

"Happy New Year, Mel."

The smile lessened on her face, until she was simply pressing her lips together. She stepped forward, stopping in front of him, and Dean swore that time went still as she reached up, laying her hands on his cheeks, pulling him down as she leaned up.

And she kissed him.

As soon as her lips touched his, Dean's mind shut off. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and was actually surprised that he could still stand upright. His hands found her hips, pulling her forward just a bit more, until there was barely room for air to get between them. Melinda scratched her nails through his beard before sliding her hands into his hair, and his hands felt like they were burning into her back. The kiss went on and on, and if it never stopped, Dean would have been just fine with that.

Melinda finally pulled back, desperate for air, and her head fell forward, her forehead resting against his chin. Dean closed his eyes, breathing just as hard, still holding her close. When she could breathe almost normally again, she leaned back. He looked down at her, smoothed out a section of her hair, and she smiled.

"Happy New Year, Dean."


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve_

Melinda somehow managed to convince Dean to walk home, instead of taking the car that Alex had waiting for them. He gave her his jacket, but she was still shivering, and damn it, he was freakin' freezing.

Except for the hand that was laced together with hers. That just happened to be the only warmth either of them could feel.

Dean glanced over as Melinda tugged at his hand, and he followed her into a tiny store. Well, what he thought was a store. They both let out breaths of relief at the warmth, and Melinda walked over to the counter, going up on her tiptoes and peeking into the small window.

"Joey?"

A dark-haired man poked his head around the corner, a few seconds before a loud laugh boomed through the small space. Melinda smiled as he made his way to her, taking both of her hands and kissing both of her cheeks.

"Beautiful lady, what are you doing out so late?"  
"It's New Year's, Joey. And we're starving."  
"Well, you have come to the right place, _bella signora_. Anthony! Fire up the ovens."

Melinda glanced over to Dean and smiled. She motioned with her head and he walked over, standing behind her, glancing down at the man who had a thick New York accent.

"Joey, this is Dean. Dean, this is Joey."

The man stuck out his hand, a smile on his face.

"Joseph Cantorelli."  
"Dean Winchester."

Dean shook his hand, and Melinda smiled up at him. Joey cleared his throat, sharing a look with Melinda that made Dean laugh to himself. Joey smiled, clapping his hands together once.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"  
"Water, please."

Joey raised his hands, then stopped, poking his head around the corner again.

"It is New Year's. I trust you've had champagne?"

Melinda smiled.

"Yes, and it's all gone straight to my head."

Joey laughed.

"Bubbles in your water?"  
"I've had enough bubbles for one night."

Joey nodded, returning with two glasses of ice and water. Melinda smiled.

"Bless you."

Joey turned to the picture of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall, making the sign of the cross before he turned back to them. A whistle from the back got his attention, and he held up one finger as he hurried away from them. Melinda took a sip of her water, giving a sigh before she closed her eyes, just for a moment.

"You okay?"

She blinked her eyes open, giving Dean a smile.

"Good. Just … feeling the champagne, I guess."

Dean nodded, taking a sip of his water before he gently laid his hand on the back of her head. Melinda took in a breath, then relaxed against his chest, which was pressed against her back. She smiled as her eyes drifted shut again.

"Joey's a good guy. We went on a date once, and it was … well, 'disastrous' doesn't quite cover it."

She let out a laugh, and Dean moved to put his nose in her hair. Her breath caught in her throat, but she found a way to keep speaking.

"Ever … ever since, he's been a good friend, letting me complain and giving me good advice, trying to teach me Italian. And besides all that, he's an incredible chef."  
"Chef? Really?"

Melinda slowly nodded.

"And call it stereotypical, but his signature dish is—"  
"Your favorite, _cara mia_."

Melinda opened her eyes to see Joey walking up with two plates, each heavily laden with a huge piece of pizza and some spaghetti. She smiled widely, and Joey motioned with his head over to a table. Dean followed them, pulling Melinda's chair out for her before sitting himself. Joey handed them each a fork, and after twirling up a bite of pasta, Melinda sat back in her chair.

"It just gets better every time."

Joey bowed his head to her.

"If you need anything, I'm just a shout away."  
"Thank you."

He winked at Melinda, then walked away. Melinda glanced up at Dean, who was huddled over his plate, shoveling spaghetti into his mouth. She let out a laugh, and he lifted his head, seeing the bright smile on her tired face.

"Were you hungry, babe?"

Her eyes went wide at the nickname, and Dean swallowed, blinking his eyes. Melinda shook her head, sitting back in the chair, and Dean reached over, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

"It's okay."  
"I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from."  
"Don't apologize."

She nodded, giving him a smile as she squeezed his hand back. Dean smiled back at her, nodding once.

"Now. How am I supposed to eat this pizza? Good God, it's the size of my head."

Melinda let out a laugh.

"You have to fold it. Here, let me show you."

* * *

Melinda stared at the wall for the longest time, trying—and failing—to go to sleep. She was exhausted, and she now realized that she was actually feeling the effects of the memory surge she'd had, not the champagne. The pain was a little twinge at this time, just feeling the throb of her heartbeat in her head, but it seemed to be growing with every shiver her body gave.

Even huddled under the blankets she was freezing, and she gave a little whimper, pushing her face into her pillow before sighing again.

She sat up, groaning at the pain that seemed to course through her blood with the sudden movement, and she glanced over to see her door open slightly.

"Mel, you okay?"

She groaned, shaking her head slowly, one hand pressed to her forehead. Dean shut the door behind him, shivering once as he walked over, sitting near her on the bed.

"What's wrong?"  
"My head."

She reached out and he took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she hissed out a breath at the sharp, burning pain from the heat of his hand. It only lasted for a second—maybe not even that long—before it settled into a comfortable warmth.

"You … you make it better."

She couldn't see him with her eyes shut as tight as she had them, so the feel of roughly calloused hands laying on either side of her head was a bit of a shock, especially when the pain that suddenly roared through her body was excruciating. She gasped, tears immediately coming to her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, but she could feel the pain start to lessen.

"Just breathe, baby."

She gave a pitiful whimper, crying out and arching her back when he moved up behind her, close enough for his chest to touch her back. He murmured to her until she relaxed back, as his fingers gently massaged her scalp. Her head fell back, and her hands came to rest against his knees, on either side of her hips.

"It's okay, Mel."  
"Hurts."  
"I know it does. Just try and relax."

She kept her eyes closed, soaking in the warmth from his body against hers. She let out a whimper, and Dean gently pushed her head forward, moving his hands down to her neck. She sucked in a breath, letting out a broken groan as his hands gently kneaded her shoulders.

"Dean."  
"Easy. Breathe for me."

She did, head falling forward again as she exhaled. With every press of his hands, Melinda felt the tension sliding out of her body, relaxing in a way she hadn't in half a year. And before she realized it, she felt herself being lowered.

"What?"  
"Shh, it's okay."

Melinda lay back against the pillows, watching sleepily as Dean tucked the blankets around her.

"Will you stay?"

Dean went still, glancing over and meeting blue eyes. Melinda yawned, then sighed. Dean smiled, reaching over and brushing the hair away from her forehead.

"Yeah, baby. I'll stay."

Melinda nodded, and Dean walked around the bed, climbing in the other side. He took in a breath when she rolled over, literally latching onto him. He smiled, letting her settle in, watching her frown, eyes closed, until she was comfortable. She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, ear pressed against his heart, head just under his chin, both of his arms around her, and one of her legs over one of his.

"I got you, Mel. Just rest."

* * *

Melinda slowly came to consciousness, feeling warm and comfortable, something she was definitely not used to. She kept her eyes closed as long as she could, feeling so safe as she snuggled closer to—

"I know you're awake."

Melinda felt her cheeks grow warm, and she turned, hiding her face. A laugh rumbled through Dean's chest, and Melinda moved to lay her cheek against his heart as his hand gently rubbed up and down her back. Dean yawned, arching his back just a bit, before sighing and tightening his hold on Melinda. She smiled when she felt him kiss her hair, and she lifted her head to look at him.

"Good morning."

Dean smiled, lifting his hand to rub the ends of her hair between his fingers.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Melinda smiled, moving to rest her head against his chest again. Dean stared at the ceiling, smiling at the quiet sigh.

"What's going on in that brain of yours?"

A quiet giggle sounded before she sighed again.

"I don't know. I … I feel like I should feel bad for sleeping with you—twice now—but I … I really don't. I haven't slept this good in I don't know how long."  
"Why should you feel bad?"

She sighed again, propping herself up to look him in the eye.

"I don't know. Because we don't know each other? Well, I don't know you, and I … I kind of feel like I'm using you."

Dean smiled, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand.

"You can use me all you want."  
"Dean."  
"I'm serious."

He sat up, leaning forward so he was close to her. He smiled, turning his hand palm up on his knee. Melinda looked down, smiling, shaking her head as she laughed quietly, moving to slide her hand into his. She gave a shiver, then closed her eyes, smiling before she blinked her eyes open, looking into pools of green.

"I'm here, Mel. You want to use me, do it. You want me to do nothing but build crap for you and fix things, I will. You want me to go, say the word."

She bit her lip.

"Are you going to say 'as you wish' every time I tell you to do something?"

Dean smiled.

"If that's what you want."  
"It is."  
"As you wish."

Melinda laughed, squeezing Dean's hand. They just looked at each other for a minute, until Dean coughed.

"Can we talk about something?"

Melinda nodded, and Dean took in a breath.

"I didn't come here alone."

Melinda narrowed her eyes, and Dean went on.

"I came here with my brother and his fiancé, who is your cousin."  
"My cousin?"

Dean nodded.

"Peyton."

Melinda looked to the side, then shook her head.

"I—I don't—"  
"That's okay."

Dean squeezed her hand, and she looked back to him, meeting his eyes and his gentle smile.

"It's okay if you don't remember her."  
"It's not fair, though."

Dean sighed, and Melinda gave a hard shiver.

"Come here, baby."  
"Dean, I—"  
"Just come here."

She crawled back to lay beside him, and he pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. She shivered again, letting out a quiet whimper, then nestled closer to him.

He didn't understand it. She was cold; she was always so cold. And he'd never really run hot, not like Sam, who was practically a freakin' furnace. He didn't understand why, but for some reason, his body temperature was soothing to her. Every time they touched, for a split second, it was like Dean was touching fire. It burned, but before he could even register the pain, it cooled to a comfortable, damn near desirable temperature.

If he could warm her, by proxy cooling himself at the same time, why wouldn't he? Touching her had never been a hardship for him, and to get to do it after believing he never would again…

Dean sighed, closing his eyes as he pulled her just a bit closer.

"I'm scared."

He blinked his eyes open, and she sighed, speaking again just as softly.

"I know she's going to want me to remember. I want to remember, I just … I don't know. It hurts so bad when I do remember something."  
"Well, I'm not going anywhere. You said that I make it better, and I'm more than willing to do whatever you need me to do. Don't sit up here in pain, Mel."

She nodded, tracing symbols on his chest with her fingertips. He smiled, and she spoke again.

"What if I never remember?"

Dean closed his eyes.

"I think you will. You get flashes, right?"

She nodded.

"Maybe your memories are just taking their time in coming back."

She nodded slowly, and Dean moved his head.

"Hey."

She looked up at him, and he smiled at the sight of those beautiful blue eyes.

"It will be okay. If you never get your memories back, that's fine. It kind of sucks, to be honest, but just think. You'll never remember the bad stuff. And we'll get to make new memories."

She nodded, but tears filled her eyes.

"What is it?"

She sniffled, looking back to her fingers on his chest. She settled her head back near his heart, sniffling again.

"I can't remember anything. You. I saw you, but I never … I never saw anything else. I can hear things, but not clearly. It's like I'm underwater or something. I can't see who's saying the things I can remember and I can't make out the voice."

She shook her head as tears soaked his t-shirt.

"I can't remember being a little girl or going to school. I know things that I had to have learned in school, but I don't remember learning them. I can cook, but I can't remember a recipe. I just do it. If I sit and think about it, I get a headache. I don't even know where I'm from."

She let out a sob, turning her face to his chest, and Dean raised a hand to gently cradle the back of her head.

"Shh. It's all right."  
"It's awful."

Dean closed his eyes, turning his head to gently press his lips to her temple.

"I never … I never thought about how it must be for you. I'm so sorry."  
"I can't—I can't spend the rest of my life like this. I'll lose my mind."  
"No, you won't."

He tightened his grip on her, shaking his head.

"I'm right here, okay? And as long as I'm around, I won't let anything bad happen to you."  
"You can't protect me from everything."  
"Watch me. You're going to be just fine."

Melinda moved up just a bit, pressing her forehead to Dean's neck, just under his beard. One of his hands came up to her neck, just resting there, holding her to him.

* * *

After a long stretch of silence, where they didn't do a thing except lie in bed and hold each other, Melinda finally broke the stillness.

"Peyton?"

Dean smiled.

"She's your cousin. You got a bunch of them. But Peyton is—was your best friend."

Melinda nodded slowly.

"Before the accident?"

Dean closed his eyes.

"Yeah, babe."

Melinda nodded again, moving her hand to start tracing on Dean's chest again. He smiled, running his fingers through her hair, and she closed her eyes again.

"That feels good."

Dean smiled.

"You used to like me playing with your hair."  
"I did?"

He nodded.

"There was a lot more of it, though."

Melinda let out a laugh. She moved to prop herself up on her arms, smiling softly as she met Dean's eyes. He smiled back at her, lifting a hand to smooth out a piece of her hair. She took in a breath.

"I need to talk to Peyton, don't I?"

Dean's smile softened, and he nodded.

"I think you do."

Melinda nodded back to him, then looked down at her hands.

"Will you …?"

Dean smiled.

"I'll be right beside you."  
"Really?"  
"Long as you'll have me."

Melinda let out a breath of relief, moving to gently kiss his cheek before she climbed out of bed. She shivered as she slid her robe over her shoulders, then looked back to him.

"I'm um … I'm gonna take a shower."  
"Yeah! Yeah, I'll uh …"

Dean climbed out of the bed, stretching his arms, tripping over a shoe and catching himself on the wall. Melinda lifted a hand to her mouth, hiding her smile. Dean turned back to her, wide smile on his face.

"I'll go call Sammy, and uh … Talk to you later."  
"Okay, sure."

Dean nodded, turning and walking out of the room. Melinda put her hand back over her mouth, muffling the laughter she couldn't hold back anymore.

* * *

Dean reached over, lacing his fingers through Melinda's. She blew out a breath, leaning over and resting her forehead on his shoulder.

"I'm so nervous."  
"Don't be, baby. You're not going to a job interview."  
"That's what it feels like."

Dean laughed to himself, shaking his head.

"She already loves you. Sammy, too. And Peyton's going to cry. Just get ready for that."  
"Because of me?"  
"…Among other things."

Melinda raised an eyebrow, and Dean smiled.

"Just trust me. Everything's going to be just fine."

She nodded, glancing around the kitchen. Dean reached over to pat her leg.

"Coffee's brewing. The muffins are a good touch, but Peyt's going right for the cookies. I'd put money on it."  
"Oh, yeah?"

Dean met her eyes, and Melinda smiled.

"Ten bucks says she picks a muffin."  
"Deal."

They shook on it, and Melinda giggled. A heavy knock sounded at the front door, and Melinda squeezed Dean's hand.

"Breathe, pretty girl. Everything's all right."  
"What if she—"  
"She loves you. She'll be so happy to see you, nothing else will matter."

Melinda squeezed her eyes shut, and Dean moved to press his forehead to hers. She sucked in a breath, shaking her head slightly.

"I'm so scared."  
"There's nothing to be scared of, baby. You'll see. Just breathe for me."

She did, body trembling. Dean gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms, absently humming. After a minute, Melinda went still, moving just a bit closer to him. Dean took her hands and squeezed them, and when she could breathe normally again, she pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes.

"What song was that?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, then let out a laugh.

"I don't even know. I honestly wasn't paying attention."  
"_Rhiannon_."

Melinda and Dean glanced over, to see a very tall man standing in the doorway, with a pretty dark-haired girl beside him. She had one hand covering her mouth, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her curly hair was loose around her head, and the taller man had his hands on her shoulders. He gave a sad smile.

"You were humming _Rhiannon_. Fleetwood Mac."

Dean smiled, nodding his head. He looked to Melinda and stood up, helping her to her feet.

"Mel, this is my little brother, Sam."  
"I don't think he got the memo about the 'little' part."

Sam laughed, stepping forward and reaching out a hand.

"Hi, Melinda."  
"Hi, Sam."

She slid her hand into his, and he shook it, then let her go and stepped back. Melinda looked to Dean and he smiled.

"This is Peyton."

She stepped forward, with Sam right behind her. She stood in front of Melinda, just staring at her, a sad smile on her face and tears rolling down her cheeks. She let out a quiet laugh.

"I never … I never thought I'd see you again."

Melinda smiled at her, and started to stick out her hand. Peyton did the same thing, and they stood there, awkwardly holding their hands up until Peyton reached over, gently taking Melinda's hand and squeezing it. Melinda looked back at Dean, tears shimmering in her eyes, and he stepped up, laying a hand to the back of her head.

"Hey, what? What's wrong?"

Melinda shook her head. Dean moved closer, brushing his fingers through her hair, and she let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know. I guess I … I was just hoping to remember something."

She closed her eyes as Dean's lips pressed against her forehead, then turned to Peyton.

"I'm sorry. I don't—I don't remember you."

Peyton gave a watery laugh.

"Oh, honey. That's okay. I remember you."

She held out her arms, lifting her shoulders, and Melinda smiled, stepping easily into the hug. Peyton closed her eyes at the rush of more tears, gently rubbing Melinda's back.

"Oh!"

Melinda stepped back and Peyton let out a laugh, one hand going to her stomach.

"Someone just wanted to say hi."

Melinda's mouth fell open, watching as Sam helped Peyton take off her heavy coat, revealing her swollen belly.

"Oh my goodness."

Peyton laughed.

"You can say that again."

Melinda smiled widely, motioning to the table, and she and Peyton sat down. Sam walked over and grabbed Dean's shoulder, squeezing once while Dean patted his back. They walked over to the coffeepot, and Peyton rubbed her belly as she smiled at Melinda.

"So this is your first?"

Peyton smiled and nodded. She lifted her gaze from her belly across the table, and took in the soft smile on Melinda's face, the way she couldn't take her eyes from the belly. Peyton reached over, gently taking hold of Melinda's hand, laying it on the left side of her belly. A few seconds later, Melinda's eyes widened as a laugh bubbled out of her mouth.

"It kicked!"

She laughed again as she turned back, smiling widely at Dean.

"It kicked."  
"He likes you."  
"Or she."

Peyton rolled her eyes, and Melinda looked back to her. Peyton let out a quiet laugh, then shook her head.

"We don't know if it's a boy or a girl. But the boys think it's a boy and the girls think it's a girl."

Melinda smiled.

"Wh—who thinks that?"

Peyton swallowed, then smiled.

"The family."

Melinda nodded, sitting back in her chair, pulling her hand away from Peyton's belly. She glanced over her shoulder, and Dean set his cup of coffee on the counter, stepping over and laying his hands on Melinda's shoulders. She closed her eyes, giving a sigh of relief, then brought her eyes back to Peyton.

"I was so … scared at first. When—when Alex found me, I mean. I was worried I had a family I couldn't remember, I mean, what if I had a baby out there that didn't know where their mama was, you know? But they did all kinds of tests and things and the doctors were almost 100% positive that I've never had a baby. And I just … Even with my memories gone, I can't imagine forgetting something like that."

Peyton looked down at her lap. Well, she couldn't really see her lap anymore, so she was really looking at her belly. She blinked back tears, doing her best to ignore the pain in her heart. She glanced over to see Dean with his back to them, leaning against the cabinet, with Sam whispering to him and gripping his shoulder.

At that moment, Peyton was supremely thankful that she wasn't an empath anymore. But even without her powers, she could almost feel the pain radiating off of Dean. Peyton met Melinda's eyes and smiled as she reached across the table, taking hold of a blueberry muffin and a napkin, turning in her chair to face the table.

"Could you …"

Peyton glanced over, meeting apprehensive blue eyes.

"Could you tell me about your … our family?"

Peyton smiled, chewing the bite she'd torn off the muffin. She nodded, laying a hand over her belly, where the baby was currently turning somersaults.

"What has Dean told you?"

Melinda let out a laugh.

"Nothing. He … Just about you. That you're my cousin and my … my best friend."

Tears prickled Peyton's eyes again, but she made herself smile.

"He's right. We've been best friends our whole lives. I was born two weeks before you, on October ninth. Your birthday is October twenty-third."  
"How—how old am I?"

Peyton blinked, lifting her dark eyes over to Dean, then smiling back at Melinda.

"We just turned twenty-eight. We'll be twenty-nine when October rolls around again."

Melinda nodded slowly, turning to glance over at Dean. He pushed a smile on his face, nodding at her. Sam left his coffee on the counter, walking over to Peyton as soon as their eyes had met, at the pure, pain-filled emotion in her gaze. He bent and kissed her, and she closed her eyes as his lips lingered on her cheek. She blinked her eyes open and smiled when she met Melinda's eyes again. Peyton cleared her throat.

"This might take a while. We have a pretty big family."

Melinda smiled, nodding her head.

"Let's start from the beginning. Our moms are sisters. There were four, Prue, Piper, Phoebe, and Paige."  
"Wow. Lots of P's."

Peyton laughed.

"And then there's me and my sisters, Phoenix, Paris, and Peyton."

Melinda let out a laugh.

"And the grandmothers."

Melinda glanced up at Dean, who walked back to the table, putting his hands on Melinda's shoulders and smiling down at her.

"Your grandmother was Patty, and her mother was Penny."

Melinda laughed again, and Peyton laced her fingers together, resting her hands on top of her belly.

"Your mother was the first one to get married, to your dad, Leo. She was the first to have a baby, and the first to break the tradition of the P names. You have two older brothers, Wyatt and Chris."  
"Brothers?"

Peyton smiled and nodded.

"Our aunt Paige is married to Uncle Henry, and they have Matt, Anna, and Jenny. Anna and Jenny are twins."

Melinda nodded, and Peyton went on.

"You are named after Aunt Prue. She died before we were born. And my … my big sister, Phoenix, she died last year."  
"I'm sorry."

Peyton met Melinda's eyes, then swallowed, making herself smile. She nodded, then cleared her throat.

"What do … what do you want to know?"

Melinda sat back in the chair, blinking her eyes. She shook her head, sniffling once before she stood up.

"Excuse me."

She walked over to the door, opening it and stepping outside. Dean closed his eyes, propping his elbows on the back of the chair and lacing his hands together, resting his forehead on his hands. Peyton covered her face with her hands, unable to hide her sniffles, and Sam clicked his tongue once, then stood up, walking over to the door and pulling it open.

* * *

It was cold outside. The cold had never really bothered Sam, because his body naturally ran hot as it was. That was a good, life-saving trait, since John Winchester always seemed to find the hunts in Montana and Wisconsin in the dead of winter.

Sam stepped out into the little backyard area, glancing over and seeing a snow-covered bench off the right side of where he stood on what he considered to be a tiny porch. Melinda was huddled on the end of it, hands around her knees, forehead pressed against them, shivering so harshly he was surprised she hadn't fallen off yet.

He slowly made his way over to her, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over her. She shook her head and Sam sat down beside her, gently laying a hand on her back. He rubbed back and forth, and she let out a sob.

"It's okay, Mel. Just breathe."

She shook her head again, giving out another sob.

"It hurts. I don't—I don't know why it hurts so bad, but it … it does."

Sam pressed his lips together.

"What does?"

She lifted her head, tear-soaked blue eyes locking on him.

"All of it."

She shook her head, face collapsing as she sobbed again, and Sam scooted closer to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer to him. After a few minutes, she lifted her head, sniffling before she sighed.

"I want to remember so badly. I just … I can't."

She pushed a hand through her hair and let out a shaky breath.

"It's like I've never seen her before. She's nice, and she's pretty, she's really pretty. And I … have no clue who she is."

She leaned her cheek on her knee, looking up at Sam.

"Same with you."  
"You think I'm pretty?"

Melinda let out a laugh, lifting a hand to wipe at the tears on her cheek. Sam smiled and patted her back. Melinda shook her head.

"You're obviously important to me. I'd give anything to remember you, but …"

She sniffled and looked forward again. She gave a particularly harsh shiver, curling in on herself, and Sam sighed, glancing over as the backdoor opened. Dean strode over to her, sitting down and scooping her into his lap. She gave a pain-filled hiss when he wrapped his arms around her, and he just shook his head.

"It's like five freakin' degrees out here, and you don't have a coat. You trying to freeze to death?"  
"I—I don't—"  
"Just hush and come back inside. Both of you."

Melinda stood up, shivering hard, wincing when Dean took her hand, tugging gently as he pulled her inside. Sam followed them, going to Peyton when Dean shut—and locked—the door behind them. Sam knelt in front of the chair, and Peyton watched as Dean wrapped his arms around Melinda, as she made a face like she was in pain before she seemed to melt into his arms.

Peyton blinked, looking down as Sam's big, warm hand covered nearly her entire belly. They both smiled when a little foot pressed against Sam's hand, and he leaned up just enough to press his lips to hers.

"It's going to be all right."

Peyton sighed, keeping her eyes closed, resting her forehead against his.

"I know."

She murmured low, just like Sam had, and he moved his fingers in little circles over her belly. After a minute, Peyton pulled back, dark, sad eyes meeting Sam's.

"She doesn't remember us?"

Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"But she remembers Dean?"

Sam shrugged.

"She was crying too hard to really talk about it."

Peyton nodded, and Sam took her hand, bringing it to his lips before holding it between both of his.

"Look, you knew this wasn't going to be an instant thing."  
"No, I knew there was a _chance_ it wouldn't be. I just hoped …"

Peyton sighed as she shook her head, and Sam lifted a hand to cup her chin.

"Don't give up hope, P."

Peyton sniffled as she shook her head.

"I'm not. Well, I'm trying not to. It just … It's really hard, and I guess I didn't expect this. Ooh."

She leaned forward, one hand going to her belly as she made a face. Sam sat back, and she shook her head.

"This is one of those—those fake contractions. Ow."

Sam blinked.

"The Braxton-Hicks things?"

Peyton nodded, moving a hand to swat at his shoulder, very lightly, barely making contact.

"It's okay. Stress does this, right? Breathe, beautiful. Everything's okay."

Peyton nodded, wincing again as she closed her eyes. Sam gently rubbed circles on the sides of her belly until her hands came down to cover his. She opened her eyes and nodded, and Sam leaned up, kissing her gently.

"Okay?"

Peyton nodded.

"We're okay."

Sam smiled, moving to tuck a riotous curl back in its place behind Peyton's ear. She smiled at him, letting out a breath as she rested a hand on her belly, smiling when she felt a little nudge to her palm.

"Hey, we, uh…"

Dean cleared his throat and Peyton and Sam looked his way. Sam stood up, wincing as his knees popped, letting his hand hang at his side for Peyton to slip her fingers through. Dean tucked one of his hands in his pocket, keeping one arm wrapped around Melinda's shoulder.

"Want to go walk through Times Square? Grab a bite somewhere or something?"

Sam glanced down, and Peyton gave him a smile.

"We might not walk very fast."

Dean smiled, glancing at Melinda, who smiled at him, moving just a bit closer to his side.

"That's okay. No rush."

Melinda patted his stomach.

"I'm just going to go freshen up a bit."

Dean nodded, and Sam helped Peyton to her feet.

"Yeah, I need to pee. Again."

Melinda smiled as she watched Peyton rub at her belly, then stepped towards her.

"You can … You can come use my bathroom. If you—if you want, I mean."

Peyton smiled.

"That would be great. Lead the way."


	13. Chapter 13

**Reminder that _italicized words_ are memories. Thanks for the reviews and please keep them up! :)**

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

Melinda sat at the vanity in her room, just staring at herself. She wasn't a nameless, faceless nobody after all. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman with a family. She had parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins. She had people who loved her, who wanted her, and if the face of that girl in the kitchen was any clue, they'd be very happy to see her.

So why did it feel like she was suffocating?

The only time she felt any sense of "rightness" was when she was around Dean. He, for some reason, made it all go away. She could breathe around him. She could sleep, and he made her feel warm. As much as she'd wanted to remember Peyton and Sam, she couldn't. Only Dean.

"You okay?"

Melinda blinked widely, looking in the mirror to see Peyton smiling gently at her. Melinda nodded, then smiled.

"Just thinking."

Peyton pursed her lips and nodded.

"It's a lot to think about."

Melinda smiled, glancing down at the makeup brushes and tiny pots of eyeshadows in front of her.

"I could help, if you wanted."

Melinda blinked as she glanced over her shoulder. Peyton smiled.

"I'm a cosmetologist. Hair and makeup's my thing."  
"You've helped me with it before?"

Peyton's grin was nearly blinding.

"Many, many times. I've done your hair and makeup for years. Prom was an epic occasion. I even did your wed—"

Peyton's eyes widened.

"My what?"

Peyton coughed into her hand, then let out a laugh.

"Sorry, the baby flipped."

She swallowed before she smiled at Melinda again.

"I've never dealt with your hair this short, but I'd give it a try. If you wanted."

Melinda smiled, turning to the mirror.

"I would."

Peyton stepped forward, running her fingers through the short honey-colored strands.

"I always said you'd look great with short hair. Not many people can pull it off, but you … You could pull anything off."

Peyton laughed as she reached for a bobby pin.

"Except for this one time. You and I both decided that jet black hair would be perfect. We had a emo phase when we were like, 13. Wash-out dye, and we both did two boxes, just to be on the safe side. It took—"  
"Seventeen showers to get all the dye out."

Peyton blinked, and Melinda lifted a hand to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes suddenly, and Peyton swallowed, closing her eyes and laying her hands on Melinda's shoulders.

"Honey."  
"I—I don't …"

Melinda shook her head, and Peyton made herself smile.

"It's okay."

Peyton jumped at the sudden clatter of makeup bottles and brushes, dropping the section of Melinda's hair that she'd been braiding as Melinda stood up.

"Don't say that. I am sick of hearing that 'it's okay.' It's … the furthest thing from okay, all right?"

Peyton just watched her, one hand resting on her belly as Melinda walked around the room. She stopped at the door to the bathroom, gripping the frame with both hands, grimacing as she rested her forehead against the frame.

"_Look at them. A joint birthday party was brilliant."  
"Melinda, baby, don't put the cake in your—oh okay. Squish it in your hair then."_

"_Melly! It's your turn to be It. I'm going to hide."  
"But you always hide in the laundry room in the clothes basket."  
"Not all the time…"_

"_Get the lead out, Halliwell. We've got a science test to ace."  
"Just sit close so I can check my answers with you."_

"_You really punched him in the face?"  
"Well, he deserved it."  
"You're the best, Mel."_

* * *

Melinda was lying on the bathroom floor, hysterical, screaming through clenched teeth as tears poured down her cheeks. Peyton had tried to kneel beside her, but Melinda flinched away from her so hard she fell over. Sam and Dean burst through the bedroom door while Melinda choked out another scream, and Sam pulled Peyton back, wrapping his arms around her, resting one wide, warm palm against her belly, breathing a sigh of relief when the baby rolled against his hand.

"Mel? Come on, baby. Come back to me."

Dean laid a hand on her leg, falling back when her hand came up, the bottom of her palm connecting with his temple. He hissed out a pain-filled breath, and Peyton's eyes widened.

"Oh my god."  
"What? Are you all right? The baby—"  
"No, we're fine. Sam. Look at him."

Dean was wincing, tilting his head towards the right. He reached up to touch his temple, hissing out a breath when his fingertips grazed his skin. Peyton swallowed, shaking her head as she felt Sam's grip on her tighten.

"She … she burned him."

Sam stared at his brother, blinking as he took in the darkening red burn mark on the side of Dean's face. He dragged his eyes over to the doorframe, letting out a breath when he saw where two handprints were burned into the wood. He swallowed, then looked over as Dean blinked his eyes open, shaking his head, lying down beside Melinda and reaching over to touch her face. She gasped, flinching backwards, and Dean caught her head before it could hit the edge of the door.

"Come on, sweetheart. Come out of it."  
"No, d—don't."

She whimpered pitifully, voice full of pain as tears continued to slide down her cheeks. She moaned in pain, eyes squeezed shut, and Dean glanced up at Sam, who nodded and ushered Peyton from the room. Melinda was gasping for breath, and Dean reached over, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. She let out another pain-filled moan when he did, before she shook her head.

"Please."  
"What can I do?"  
"Make it stop."

Her voice was so quiet, barely even a whisper. And Dean didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help her. His touch was obviously not enough this time, and to drive that point home, his temple gave a painful throb. He sighed, and the choked sob she gave was too much for him. He sat up and rolled her onto her back, doing his best to ignore the moan and the fresh tears, leaning over and laying his lips on hers.

Time seemed to stand still then.

Dean held himself up on his arms, not touching her, except for his lips on hers. She let out a whimper, before her lips tentatively pressed back against his, the slightest bit of pressure. Dean smiled into the kiss, moving his head just a bit, dancing his lips over hers until she seemed to respond a bit more.

And when her shaky arms snaked up and around his neck, Dean welcomed the fire-filled touch, before the warmth settled into his bones.

* * *

"What happened?"

Peyton sighed, lifting a hand to gather a handful of her hair, then letting it fall. She shook her head, resting a hand on her belly, looking up from where she was sitting at the kitchen table, meeting Sam's eyes from where he stood, leaning against the cabinets.

"I don't know. We were just talking. I asked if she wanted me to help her with her makeup and hair."

Sam nodded, and Peyton continued.

"I almost …"

She sighed, and Sam stepped forward. She shook her head, waving him back, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Peyton glanced towards the door of the kitchen, then sighed again, whispering.

"I almost let it slip that I did her makeup for her wedding."

Sam's eyes grew wide, and Peyton scowled as she rubbed a hand over her belly.

"I played it off, but … How does he expect us to keep quiet about that? And then when we get her home? All those people, trying to get them all to keep their mouths shut? Ha."

Sam smiled, and Peyton shook her head.

"He's out of his mind."  
"He's got a good point, though."

Peyton let out an incredulous laugh, pushing to her feet. Sam went to help her, shrinking back to his position when she shot him a look.

"I'm pregnant, Sasquatch, not an invalid."

Sam pressed his lips together and nodded. Peyton stepped right in front of him, putting her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean, 'he's got a good point'?"

Sam licked his lips.

"Hear me out."  
"Sam, I—"  
"Well, you wouldn't before. I brought this up and you went on a six-minute tirade of what an idiot my brother is."  
"And I didn't hear not one objection from you."

Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"What I tried to tell you, two days ago, was that he … He doesn't want her to feel pressured. If she wants to be with him, he wants it to happen naturally, instead of her feeling like she has to just because they're married."  
"Are you kidding me?"

Sam blinked, and Peyton shook her head.

"While that's a very noble and honestly, _Notebook_-type of thing to do, it doesn't change the fact that they are married, Sam. She's his wife, and she has a right to know that."

Peyton stepped away from him, keeping one hand on her hip, resting the other at the top of her belly.

"What's going to happen if we take her away from here? Are we going to go to a bar like old times and let her pick someone up? If she meets a guy and falls head-over-heels for him, is Dean just going to step aside? Get a quick divorce without her knowing so she doesn't coming bigamy or whatever?"  
"Peyt, I … I honestly don't think that's going to happen."

She glanced over her shoulder at him, a soft smile on her lips.

"Can you see the future now?"

Sam smiled, stepping over to her. He stood behind her, leaning over and resting his chin on her shoulder, laying his hands on either side of her belly.

"Look at them. They don't act like they used to, but—"  
"There's a familiarity there. She trusts him."

Sam nodded.

"And I think it's tearing him up inside not to tell her the whole truth."  
"Then why doesn't he?"

Sam smiled, pressing the side of her belly just to feel a kick against his palm.

"Because he's Dean and he has a crippling martyr complex."

Peyton shook her head, and Sam sighed.

"He's so worried about making sure she's okay, and not pressuring her into anything. I know it … it might seem selfish or something, but he really thinks he's doing what's best for her."  
"And we're supposed to just go along with it?"

Sam kissed her cheek.

"Yeah, baby."

Peyton bit her lip, then shook her head.

"Piper's not going to go for that."  
"Yeah, I know. Not getting in the middle of that."

Peyton let out a laugh, then turned back, taking hold of Sam's face and bringing his lips to hers, kissing him deeply. She kept holding his face, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his, murmuring softly.

"I'm going to call Mom, let her know what's going on."

Sam nodded.

"She's at the Manor, so she'll tell Aunt Piper and …"  
"We'll just go from there."

Peyton nodded, and Sam pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you, Peyton Haliwell."

Peyton smiled.

"I love you, Sam Winchester."

* * *

Dean gathered Melinda into his arms when she finally stopped shaking, and they were laying on the bathroom floor, tangled up together, her chin resting on his chest, and her forehead against his chin. Every few seconds, he'd tuck his chin, pressing his lips against her forehead before settling back to their position. She was still crying, silently now, and the only way he knew was because tears kept slipping down her cheeks, settling in his shirt. She'd sniffle every so often, and he'd kiss her forehead again.

"Mel?"  
"It hurts."

Dean nodded, tightening his hold on her. She sniffled, then let out a shaky sigh.

"I didn't think it … would hurt this much."  
"Physically, or—"  
"Both."

She went still, sliding backwards away from him, and Dean opened his eyes.

"Mel?"  
"I … I'm going to—"

She crawled to the toilet, sitting up on her knees. She put her head in her hand, waving Dean back.

"Go."  
"I don't think so."  
"Dean, I—"  
"I'm not going anywhere."

Melinda groaned, tears falling down her cheeks as she leaned up, vomiting into the toilet bowl. Dean closed his eyes, getting to his feet and opening cabinets, until he found a washcloth. He grabbed two of them, wetting one in the sink, crouching down beside her and draping the wet cloth over the back of her neck. She let out a low keen, reaching to squeeze his arm before she was sick again.

"Easy, baby. Everything's okay."

She nodded, tears still slipping down her cheeks. When she leaned back just a bit, Dean used the other cloth to dry her tears, wiping off her mouth. She sniffled as she looked into his eyes.

"_Easy, baby. Take it easy."_

_She let out a groan, and he laughed quietly._

"_Are you laughing at my misery?"  
"No, sweetheart. Not at all."_

"_I feel like death."  
"I know, baby."  
"Why are you still here?"_

"_Because I love you."_

* * *

Dean was damn close to freaking the hell out. Melinda had been sick as a dog, something that hadn't happened before and scared him, and now, she was staring at him, but she wasn't there. He was looking right at her beautiful eyes, but she was looking right through him, as if neither of them were really there.

"Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me, Mel."

She didn't even blink, which was honestly terrifying him. What if she had an aneurysm or something? Would he even know it? Would she just collapse on the floor and he'd never know? Terror had a vice grip on his lungs, and he could barely even breathe.

And then, she blinked.

Her eyes moved around, as if she was just realizing where she was, seeing the floor of the bathroom. She blinked again, eyes moving up to meet his, and Dean couldn't help the smile that crossed his face.

"Hey, you back with me?"

She blinked again, then lifted a shaking hand, touching his nose, then his lips.

"Mel? Hey, what—shit."

Dean caught her easily as she passed out, going limp as a rag doll in his arms. Dean closed his eyes, letting out a breath, sitting on the floor and pulling her body close to him. He just needed a second, just a moment to believe it was old times again, that his wife was in his arms.

That she remembered who he was.

Oh, hell, if we're going that far, he also wishes he wasn't a colossal fuck-up and their lives were normal.

Dean blew out a breath, putting his face in her hair, not noticing the way his entire body was trembling.

"Dean?"

He lifted his head, seeing Peyton standing at the door, a gentle look on her face, and one hand above …

Was that a burn mark?

She repeated his name, and he blinked, looking down at Melinda in his arms. He sighed, then looked back up to Peyton.

"She passed out."  
"Is she okay?"

Dean sighed, shrugging his shoulders. Peyton turned away, and two seconds later, Sam was in the doorway.

"Hey, what happened?"

Dean shook his head as Sam kneeled down, and Dean got to his feet as Sam held Melinda in his arms. Dean bent over and Sam easily passed her over, getting to his feet and following behind as Dean walked towards the bed. Peyton had already pulled the covers back, and she helped Dean get Melinda under the covers, tucking them in around her.

Dean stared at Melinda, lying in the bed, face slack with the peace only sleep could bring. Peyton looked to Sam, who walked up and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Let's get some air, Dean."

Dean nodded, turning and walking to the door. He stopped, turning back to Peyton, who gave him a smile.

"I'll stay with her until you get back."

Dean nodded, leaving the room while Sam kissed the top of Peyton's head. The door shut when Sam was halfway down the steps, and he sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, slipping his coat over his shoulders and grabbing Dean's as he walked out the door.

* * *

"Hey, genius."

Dean sighed as he took another drag from his cigarette, deliberately not turning around.

"It's January in New York, and here's a novel idea: Wear your fucking coat. How am I supposed to explain how the great Dean Winchester died from a little frostbite?"

Dean snorted despite himself. He kept the cigarette in his mouth as he turned, taking the coat from his brother and slipping it on. He was thankful, because it was _fucking_ cold out, but he could never tell that to Sam. He had a reputation as a big brother.

"You're the best, Sammy. Gonna make some guy a very happy man one day."  
"Fuck you, jerk."

Dean cackled out a laugh, blowing out a stream of smoke. Sam stood beside him, breathing out and sliding his hands into his pockets.

"You want to talk about it?"  
"I'm good."

Sam nodded.

"You want to talk about it anyway?"  
"Fresh out of therapy sessions, Dr. Phil."

Sam sighed.

"Dean—"  
"What do you want me to say?"

Sam pressed his lips together, and Dean took a long drag from the cigarette, holding the acrid air in his lungs as long as he could before exhaling.

"I've never seen her like that. And it scares me, because I don't know what it means. Does she remember Peyton? The way she hasn't remembered me?"

Sam glanced over, and Dean shook his head, dropping the end of his cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath the heel of his boot. Sam turned his head, eyes locking on the burn at Dean's temple. Sam swallowed, looking at his feet, then reached over, gently touching the mark. Dean hissed and leaned back.

"Ow, what the hell?"  
"She did that."  
"Did what? Shit, Sam. That hurt."

Sam sighed, taking hold of Dean's jacket and tugging him across the street, to a storefront. Sam positioned him in front of the window.

"Right there. Your temple."

Dean leaned forward, studying his face, lifting a hand and hissing when he touched the mark.

"She burned you, Dean."  
"How did she …"

He let out a breath, swallowing hard when he looked closer. Sam crossed his arms over his chest and bit his tongue. After a moment, Dean dragged a hand over his face, then turned around, leaning against the storefront like his brother. Both had their arms crossed over their chests, one booted foot up and resting against the wall. Sam was the one to finally break the silence.

"Do you think it's some remnant of Lucifer?"

Dean closed his eyes, squeezing them shut for just a moment.

"Sam."  
"Someone had to say it. You were thinking it, too."

Dean blew out a breath.

"It … it can't be, okay? She killed him."  
"And we thought she'd killed herself, too. But she's still here somehow. So who's to say that—"  
"No. Do not go there. No."

Sam blew out a breath.

"You know it's—"  
"Don't."

The fire in Dean's green eyes made Sam stop mid-sentence. He swallowed, watching as Dean pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapping one out and lighting it almost effortlessly. Sam was taken back to his childhood, a memory of being fascinated by watching his father do the exact same thing overtaking his memory. He blinked and looked down, listening as Dean smoked too fast, as he let out a cough that made him slow down. When he was finished with the cigarette, Dean let out a sigh.

"I can't think about that. She can't have anything left in her from Lucifer. She can't. Not after everything she went through. Everything _we_ went through."  
"Everything _you_ went through."

Dean swallowed, shaking his head.

"She killed that bastard. She saved the fucking world and killed him, and that's the end."

Dean closed his eyes.

"It has to be."


	14. Chapter 14

**Please keep the reviews coming. They help more than you know.**

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen_

Peyton rubbed a hand over her belly, looking up as Dean walked into the kitchen. He sighed, walking towards the coffeepot.

"She's still out."

Peyton nodded, then glanced up at Sam. Sam sighed, moving to sit beside Peyton and taking her hand, resting his other hand against her belly, smiling softly when the baby nudged his palm.

"Dean, we … We've been thinking."

Dean's lips quirked up in a small smile before he sighed. He turned around, lifting his mug to his mouth, speaking before he took a sip.

"I was afraid of that."

Peyton smiled, then let out a breath.

"What happened up there?"

Dean shook his head, sipping his coffee again as he walked to the table.

"I don't know. She's never done that with me. I mean, when she remembers something, it's kind of like it used to be when she'd get a premonition. She zones out, sometimes passes out. She gets a massive headache anytime she remembers something."

Peyton looked over to Sam with tears in her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her temple, holding his hand on her cheek. She shook her head, moving her face to his chest, and Sam sighed.

"It hurt her. Whatever she did up there, it … it hurt. And it was because—because of me."

Dean sighed, looking down into his cup. Sam leaned back to look at Peyton and took her hand again.

"We should go."

Green eyes flashed as Dean's head popped up. Sam sighed again.

"Classes are starting back soon. Peyt's got to get back to work, and I'm sure Leo could use the help."

Dean nodded slowly.

"So you … you just want to leave her?"  
"Well… No. Not—not necessarily. Just give her a little space."

Peyton sniffled, finally able to speak.

"We know where she is. We can come back, or … or get her back home, maybe."

Dean nodded slowly again, then set his cup down in the sink. He licked his lips, then turned to face his brother and Peyton.

"Let me say this one time. I am not going anywhere."  
"Dean—"

Sam stopped when he saw Dean lift a shaking hand.

"I thought … I thought I'd lost her. That she was gone and I'd never get a chance to see her or hold her or even talk to her ever again. But I was wrong. She's here. And as long as she's here, then I am, too."  
"Dean—"  
"Tell Leo that I'm sorry. But I have a weird feeling that he'll be okay with this."  
"There's other people that you're leaving behind, you know."

Peyton jumped when Dean slammed his hands on the counter.

"Goddamn it, Peyton. I know. I _hate_ that Kate will be there and I'll be here. But I am not going to leave Mel again. I won't."  
"And you don't think you being here will hurt her?"  
"Stop."

Peyton turned hurt eyes to Sam, who shook his head, standing up.

"Just stop."

Peyton closed her eyes, shaking her head and Dean turned away from them, putting his hands on his hips. Sam knelt in front of Peyton, taking both of her hands.

"Did you honestly think he'd willingly go with us?"  
"I want to stay here with her."  
"I know you do."

Sam lifted a hand to tuck some wayward curls behind Peyton's ear.

"But, sweetheart …"

Peyton shook her head as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"We've done nothing but hurt her since we got here."

Sam sighed, but nodded. Peyton closed her eyes, shaking her head again.

"I don't want her to feel like we're abandoning her or something."  
"She won't."

Peyton and Sam glanced over to Dean, who let out a sigh.

"I won't let her. I'll tell her that you wanted to stay, but…"

He cleared his throat and Peyton nodded, another few tears slipping from her eyes.

"You tell her that I love her. Anything she wants to know, tell her. Or tell her to call me and I—I'll tell her."

Dean nodded, and Peyton sniffled, then leaned forward, resting her forehead on Sam's shoulder. He gently rubbed her back, until she lifted her head, sniffling and pushing her hair out of her face.

"Okay, then."

She stood up, holding one hand to her belly as she walked out of the kitchen. Sam and Dean shared a sigh, and Sam scratched the back of his head as he walked over to Dean.

"I, uh … I'll text you when I find us a flight."

Dean nodded, and Sam slowly sighed.

"You need to tell her."  
"Sam."  
"She has a right to know."  
"Did you not see her an hour ago, writhing on the bathroom floor? Do you remember this?"

Dean pointed to the burn mark on his temple, and Sam sighed.

"So, yeah. That's a brilliant idea, for me to shove more information on her. Hell, maybe next time she'll just burst into flames."  
"Dean."  
"She's never burnt anything before, Sam. I don't know what that means. It scares the hell out of me, but what am I supposed to do? Leave her? Explain the whole convoluted family tree, and 'Oh, by the way, you've got magical powers that you use to kill demons. Yeah, even the Devil, because when you let him possess you, you ended up killing the both of you. Just wiping your existence from this world, until you miraculously showed up in good ol' NYC.'"

Sam closed his eyes, and Dean let out a laugh.

"Sure, college boy. Great idea."  
"Shut up, you jackass. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Dean rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He let out a sigh, then looked to his brother.

"She knows."

Sam lifted an eyebrow, and Dean sighed.

"Well, she doesn't know that we were married."  
"_Are_ married."

Dean glanced down at his left hand, then made it into a fist.

"She doesn't know that far, but she knows that I love her. Apparently, I have a shitty poker face around her."

Sam smiled, nodding his head.

"You really do."

Dean sighed, lifting a hand to drag it over his face.

"She knows that I love her, because she asked and I couldn't lie to her. And I don't … I don't know. I don't want to force her to love me back. That's the last thing I want. But I—"  
"Dean, she does. Even if she doesn't remember it, or if she can't express it, trust me. I can see it. She loves you, too."

Dean clenched his jaw, nodding his head. Sam reached over and gripped his shoulder.

"That's why I know you can't leave her. I never thought I'd be finding three plane tickets for the trip home. Not once."

Dean slid his eyes to his brother.

"Really?"

Sam smiled.

"Really. And Peyton knows it, too. It's just hard for her to focus right now. The emotions and the hormones and all."

Dean nodded, and Sam squeezed his shoulder again.

"If you need anything, you call. I don't care what time it is, all right? Fuck the time difference."

Dean smiled, nodding his head again. Sam nodded, letting go of Dean's shoulder and sliding his hands in his pockets. He got to the door and Dean sighed.

"Sammy."

Sam stopped and glanced back, keeping his smile to himself when Dean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Sam closed his eyes, patting Dean's back.

"I love you too, Dean."  
"Oh, get out of here. You big girl."

Sam laughed, shaking his head as he walked to the front door and slid his coat over his shoulders. He lifted a hand to Dean, then walked out the front door, where Peyton was waiting on the front steps for him.

* * *

Melinda woke in the middle of the night with a pounding head, her entire body aching. She felt cold and stiff, and she groaned as she pushed herself up in her bed. She held a hand to her head, fighting back tears as pain radiated through her body. She slowly stood up, keeping one hand along the wall as she slowly made her way to her door.

She didn't really know what she was doing. She didn't have a plan. She wasn't hungry, so she didn't think she was going to the kitchen. She certainly wasn't going outside. The kids were all asleep in their rooms, and Alex was asleep in his.

Melinda whimpered as she walked down the stairs, as each step seemed to thunder in her skull. She got to the bottom of the staircase and shivered, glancing to the couch and letting out a shaking breath. She slowly stumbled over, walking in front of the couch and seeing Dean there, still in his jeans and olive green Henley. His eyes were closed, arms loosely crossed over his flat abdomen. His boots were at the end of the couch, and his socked feet were crossed at the ankles.

Melinda swallowed, reaching to lay a hand on his shoulder. She stopped halfway there, when his hand reached up, gently taking hold of her wrist before he blinked his sleepy green eyes open.

"Mel?"

She gave a full-body shiver, and his eyes widened. She didn't say anything as he started to sit up, and he stopped, laying back on the couch as she gently climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, laying her head on his shoulder. Dean licked his lips, easily looping his arms around her. She shivered again, letting out a quiet groan as the warmth of his body seemed to soak into her skin, and she closed her eyes, as the pain in her skull finally began to let up.

Dean reached for the thick comforter he'd tossed over the back of the couch when he'd gotten too warm a few minutes earlier, draping it over the both of them. Melinda gave a quiet hum of satisfaction, and Dean closed his eyes, moving a hand to slowly card it through her hair as sleep overtook them both.

* * *

_The house was just as she remembered seeing before. Old and big, at least two stories. The creepy-looking tree was in the front yard, bare branches reaching out for anything to grab onto._

_The house was burning. _

_Melinda stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the window on the second floor, where she could see the orange glow of the flames eating through the house. _

_And he appeared in the window._

_She was in the house before she could think, the force of the heat surrounding her making her close her eyes. It hurt, to be this close to the fire. But she had to find him. She had to get to him and get him out. She had to—_

_His hand closed over her wrist._

"_Dean, you have to go. Get out of here."  
"Mel, I love you."_

_She shook her head, pulling out of his grip, laying her hands against his chest._

"_Please, go. Go outside as fast as you can. Don't look back."_

_They both blinked at the words that spilled from her lips, and Dean shook his head._

"_Not without you."_

_There was a crash behind them, followed by another from somewhere in front of them. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and all of a sudden, absolute peace filled her from her head to her toes. He gave her a smile, reaching to cup her face in his hands._

"_I love you."_

_Melinda gave him a smile, nodding her head._

"_I love you, too."_

_He leaned forward, laying his lips on hers, and her hands slid up, cupping his elbows before her fingers drifted up his biceps. They continued to kiss as they both went to their knees, and Dean laid down on his back on the floor. Melinda laid beside him, curling close to his side, sliding her arm over his stomach. Dean swallowed, closing his eyes. Melinda listened to the crackle and roar of the fire surrounding them, and she moved to lay her head on Dean's shoulder, feeling the heat intensify as she closed her eyes._

* * *

Melinda gasped as her eyes flew open, but a soft murmur and gentle hands on her back made her relax.

"Go back to sleep, baby."  
"Dean?"  
"Everything's okay, sweetheart."  
_"Dean."_

She turned her face to his chest, and his hand gently pushed through her hair. Tears soaked his shirt, but she didn't understand why she was crying.

"You're safe, Mel. I'm right here."

She tightened her hold on him, and he gently ran his hand up and down her back. Dean let out a groan, picking his hand up from her back before putting it right back.

"It's barely five, babe. Let's go to bed, okay?"

She nodded, sniffling before she slid off of him, curling up into a ball at the corner of the couch and breathing out roughly. Dean stood up, groaning and shifting, wincing when muscles pulled and bones popped. He stepped over and scooped Melinda into his arms, and she put her arms around his neck, burying her face where his neck met his shoulder. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, then carried her up the stairs, into her bedroom.

He set her on her bed, and she looked down, at the flannel pajamas she didn't remember putting on. She glanced up and Dean knelt in front of her. He gently pushed a piece of hair out of her face, letting his fingers drift over her cheek and forehead.

"Can you talk about it?"

She slowly shook her head, sniffling as she looked up at him.

"Just … don't leave me?"

Dean smiled, cupping her face in his hand.

"Never."

She nodded slowly, and Dean murmured to her, getting her to turn and lay down. The pillow was soft beneath her head, and she let out a breath of relief when he lay down next to her, sliding under the covers and rolling beside her. She blinked when the bare skin of his knee brushed against her fingertips, and Dean let out a quiet laugh.

"Jeans suck to sleep in."  
"We should … get you some … pajamas."

Dean nodded.

"Tomorrow, maybe."

Melinda sniffled and nodded, letting out a sigh when Dean's fingers linked with hers.

"You can sleep, baby. It's all right."

Melinda closed her eyes and felt the tears come again. Dean slid forward, pressing his lips to her forehead, and she let out a stuttered sigh before she curled up next to him, fitting her body right alongside his. Dean put his arm around her, kissing her forehead again before resting his cheek on hers.

She didn't even mind the rasp of his stubble against her skin, and drifted to sleep with every aspect of Dean surrounding her.

* * *

Melinda woke up alone in her bed. She glanced at her clock, eyes widening when she saw that it was almost time for lunch. She walked to her bathroom, taking a long, hot shower. She blow-dried her hair and pushed her fingers through it, dressing in a pair of leggings and a long, oversized NYU sweatshirt. She put thick socks on her feet and didn't bother with any makeup. She slowly made her way downstairs, stopping when she saw Dean sitting across from someone she didn't recognize.

"Dean?"

Green eyes looked up, and a smile broke across Dean's face as he stood and walked over to her. He offered his hand and she took it as she walked down the last few steps, and he smiled as he took in her appearance, pushing her bangs back from her face.

"How you feeling?"

She smiled, reaching up and holding his hand to her cheek.

"I'm okay."

Dean smiled, leaning closer to her. He went still, almost as if he was remembering something, and stood up straight again. He cleared his throat, keeping hold of Melinda's hand and leading her to the living room.

"Mel, this is Scotty. Scotty, this is Melinda. She helps run this place."

The kid sitting on the couch just nodded his head. He hadn't moved from staring at his feet, and Melinda moved to sit on the coffee table in front of him. He sucked in a breath, speaking rapidly.

"Don't sit on the furniture."

Melinda glanced up at Dean, who shook his head, and she put a gentle smile on her face.

"It's okay if we sit on this furniture, Scotty. Alex doesn't mind."

Scotty shook his head.

"No, it … you'll mess it up."  
"Oh, Alex doesn't worry about things like that. This place would probably be empty if it wasn't for me."

Scotty seemed to go still, and Melinda went on.

"I picked out most of this furniture, and the stuff I picked out is good and sturdy. Meant to be sat on and meant for kids to be rough on it. So it doesn't matter where you sit."  
"I just don't want to mess anything up."

Melinda tilted her head.

"You won't. Not here."

Scotty let out a breath, lifting his head. Melinda's smile went even softer, and sad, when she took in the deep bruises around his dark eyes. He had scars on his face, and fresh cuts, some angry red and some that looked as if they just stopped bleeding. His eyes were dark and sad, his hair black and curly. He swallowed, shaking his head as tears filled his eyes.

"I had to go. I couldn't stay there, not one more minute."  
"You've come to the right place."  
"I don't … I don't have any money. I don't have anything but—"

He motioned towards the door, where a shiny black guitar was propped against the wall. Scotty sniffled and pushed his sleeve under his nose.

"I got that guitar for Christmas, and it's all I brought with me."

Melinda smiled.

"It's beautiful."  
"Maybe you can get some money for it."

Melinda closed her eyes, then looked back to Scotty.

"Listen to me, okay? You don't need any money to stay here. You don't have to pay. You've got a warm place to stay, a comfortable bed to sleep in. We'll provide food for you. All you have to worry about is doing well in school. If you can't, or you don't want to, then we'll find you a job. How old are you, Scotty?"

He sniffled again.

"Fourteen."

Melinda smiled.

"Then you've got to go to school. The other kids in the House will help you. Alex and I will help you, if we can. It's been quite a while since we were in school, though."

Scotty actually smiled—just a tiny bit—and Melinda counted it as a win.

"You hungry?"

Scotty nodded, and Melinda stood to her feet, glancing up to see Dean propped against the doorframe. She gave him a smile, then spoke softly.

"I'll fix us some lunch, and you can come to the kitchen when you're ready, okay?"

Scotty nodded, and Melinda walked to Dean, sliding her arm around him, going up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek, letting her arm slide across his abdomen as she went into the kitchen.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Melinda jumped, letting out a laugh when hands landed on her hips.

"You've got to start making noise."

Dean laughed, squeezing her hips once, raising an eyebrow at the way she stumbled before she straightened and reached out for the bag of chips on the counter. She glanced back, and when she saw that they were alone, she raised an eyebrow. Dean smiled.

"Kid knocked on the door about an hour before you came down. Alex took the kids to … something somewhere, so it was just me here."  
"Did you talk to him?"  
"Scotty?"

Melinda nodded.

"Not much. He wouldn't really talk to me. Not until you came down."  
"Did he talk to you when I came in here?"

Dean smiled, nodding his head.

"Little more. That's a sweet guitar."

Melinda smiled, turning back to cut the sandwiches she'd made.

"Do you play?"

Dean swallowed.

"Some."

Melinda turned to face him, a plate in each hand.

"You'll have to play for me sometime."

She stepped past him, and Dean closed his eyes, swallowing again, throat dry as the desert. He'd never played for her before. He barely played at all.

* * *

Dean was seventeen when he dropped out of school. He was borderline obsessed with James Dean, too cool to hang around his snot-nosed little brother, and Sam was just beginning to inch into teenage angst. Dean liked to test his limits with his father, and John wasn't exactly known for his patience. And John had enough of Dean when he disappeared for three entire days, too busy up Hailey Roberts' skirt in some backwoods Georgia town to pick up a phone.

When Dean finally did saunter back into the rundown rental house, smelling of booze and weed and sex, John didn't speak to him, except to tell him to take a shower and pack his shit. Dean slept in the backseat while John drove nonstop to Blue Earth, Minnesota, dropping Dean on Pastor Jim Murphy's doorstep. Sam threw a mighty fit to stay with Dean, and John ended up dropping Sam at Bobby's for the summer.

Dean had stood on the step in shock, watching the Impala's taillights fade in the dusk. Pastor Jim opened the door to let him in, walking out of the room and letting Dean have his space. Once Dean had broken a few chairs and a good many dishes from Pastor Jim's cabinets, the man stepped over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"_Come on, son. We need to have a long talk."_

Dean found it easy to talk to the man, even if he was a priest. He explained that he was tired, but more than anything else, Dean was angry, and he didn't really know why. Pastor Jim had listened for hours, offering quiet comments when he needed to. By the end of the talk, Dean felt the burden on his shoulders was eased just a bit, and the weight lightened even more over the course of the summer.

Pastor Jim had gone to the local music store, buying a secondhand guitar and handing it to Dean, telling him he had lessons set up every Thursday. And honestly, that turned out to be the best thing Jim could have done.

* * *

Dean hadn't picked up a guitar in years, but his fingers were suddenly itching. He walked into the living room, where Melinda and Scotty were sitting on the couch, talking quietly as they ate. Dean stepped further into the room, and Melinda smiled as she laid a hand on Scotty's shoulder before she stood and walked over to Dean. Dean had to bend over to hear her whisper.

"I'd made you a plate, but the kid was starving. I'll make you another sandwich and you can eat with us in here."

Dean nodded, smiling as she walked into the kitchen. He cleared his throat, walking over to the couch, eyeing the guitar leaning against the wall. Scotty caught his eye, and Dean nodded.

"You play?"

Scotty sighed, shaking his head.

"My mom said I was supposed to take lessons or something, but she took off. I don't know …"

Scotty sighed again, and Dean swallowed.

"I could teach you some things."  
"Really?"

Dean nodded, trying not to focus on the hope in the boy's eyes. He walked over to the guitar, picking it up and walking back over, sitting in the chair across from the couch. He put the guitar on his lap, running his fingers along the gleaming black body, gently plucking each string. He put the guitar in the proper position, plucking the strings again and tuning the guitar.

"What do you play?"

Dean smiled as he strummed the instrument.

"Classic rock, man. You got a pick?"

Scotty dug in his pocket, pulling out a lime green pick. Dean smiled and nodded at him as he took the pick in his hand, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, playing a few chords and making a few adjustments in his tuning. He lifted his head, giving Scotty a smile.

"This is one of my all-time favorite songs."

He held his fingers on the strings, feeling the weight of the guitar on his leg and he closed his eyes. All of a sudden, he was seventeen again, with the weight of the world on his shoulders—except when he held a guitar. His fingers found the chords on their own, embedded into his memory long, long ago, and just like when he was seventeen, everything seemed to melt away.

* * *

Melinda set the bread aside, narrowing her eyes when music suddenly filled the quiet of the house. She walked back to the living room, stopping hard in the door way of the kitchen when she heard Dean's voice singing softly, just loud enough the be heard over the sound of him strumming the guitar.

"_I pulled into Nazareth,  
Was feelin' 'bout half past dead.  
I just need to find a place  
Where I can lay my head.  
Hey, mister, can you tell me  
Where a man might find a bed?  
He just grinned and shook my hand,  
"No," was all he said._

_Take a load off, Annie.  
Take a load for free.  
Take a load off, Annie.  
And  
You put the load,  
You put the load  
Right on me."_

He opened his eyes, locking on Melinda's. Her blue eyes were soft as she leaned against the doorframe, and she gave him a sweet smile.

"Don't stop. Please?"

Dean swallowed, giving her a smile, and he nodded. He just played for a minute, because he couldn't bear to bring himself to sing the next verse. He rolled through the lyrics in his mind, then picked up again.

"_Go down, Miss Moses,  
There's nothin' you can say.  
It's just old Luke,  
And Luke's waitin' on the Judgment Day.  
Well, Luke, my friend,  
What about young Anna Lee?  
He said, "Do me a favor, son.  
Won't you stay and keep  
Anna Lee company?"_

_Take a load off, Annie.  
Take a load for free.  
Take a load off, Annie.  
And  
You put the load,  
You put the load  
Right on me."_

Later, she'd say that was the moment that she knew. When he sat there with a scared little boy in front of him and quietly sang a song that none of them really knew the meaning of. When he closed his eyes and let his fingers tell the story through a beautiful, steady melody, before his voice rang out clear and true. When he wasn't worried or thinking too hard, when he didn't have to be anyone's anything and he could just close his eyes and let the music flow through him.

That was the moment she knew she loved him.

* * *

He found her in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a half-made, forgotten sandwich in front of her. Her hands were resting near the plate where the sandwich sat, and her head was bowed. He cleared his throat and saw her shake her head.

"Mel—"  
"You never played for me before."

Dean swallowed, stopping just inside the door, beside the refrigerator.

"No, I—I didn't."  
"Why not?"

He blinked, and when he could speak, his voice was quiet and thick.

"I was too busy."

She lifted her head, turning to look at him, and he could see the storm in her eyes. The confusion, a little bit of hurt. She shook her head.

"I don't understand this."

She lifted her eyes to his, shaking her head again.

"Why it hurts."

Dean pushed off from the doorframe, walking over and wrapping her in his arms. She put her face in his chest, closing her eyes and just breathing him in. He felt her shaking hands pressing against his back, and he closed his eyes, holding her as close and as tightly as he could.

Dean let out a breath when he heard the front door open, and he opened his eyes to see Alex come to a stop inside the kitchen. He blinked, raised an eyebrow, and Dean shook his head. He cleared his throat.

"There's a new kid in the living room. Scotty."  
"I'll take care of it. Get the kids to give you some space."

Dean nodded, gently rubbing his hand up and down Melinda's back. When Alex had walked away, Melinda pulled away from Dean, keeping his hand in hers, sliding her feet into her shoes by the door and leading him outside.

* * *

Dean let out a harsh breath when the frigid air seemed to slap him in the face.

"Shit, it's cold."

Melinda let out a laugh, shaking her head. She kept holding his hand, leading him over to the back porch swing. She went to sit and he stopped her, sitting himself instead, feeling the cold seep through his jeans, then pulled her down onto his lap. She smiled, but sat anyway, leaning into him as the wind blew, chilling them both.

She was the one to break the quiet.

"How long have we been together?"

Dean blinked. _That_ was not what he was expecting her to say. He cleared his throat.

"Si—five years. Since you were … since you were twenty-two."

Melinda nodded.

"And you were?"

Dean smiled.

"Twenty-seven."  
"Old man."

Dean laughed, brushing her hair back from her face. She studied his face, cataloging the freckles across his nose and cheeks, and how the hair that made up his beard was an oddly-reddish color. How his eyes were the color of Granny Smith apples, how his lips could almost be described as "bee-stung," but would definitely be painfully chapped if he kept licking them.

"We were happy … weren't we?"

It didn't really sound like a question. She just wanted affirmation that what she was thinking was true. Dean closed his eyes, but nodded.

"For the most part."

His eyes opened, green and pleading.

"Mel, I was … I was a real idiot."

She leaned forward, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his. Dean let out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Her soft, cool hands came up to cup his face, thumbs dragging through his beard.

"That doesn't matter now."  
"It does. Mel, it does matter."  
"Shh. No. It doesn't."

Tears were welling up behind his closed eyelids, and panic was starting to flutter through his chest. Her lips pressed ever-so-gently against his cheek, and he let out a choked sob.

"Mel—"  
"Shh, Dean. It's okay."

He tightened his hold on her, as her lips slowly moved across his cheek. He could feel her breath against his lips, and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper.

"I … I'm still an idiot."

She smiled softly.

"Okay. But you're my idiot."

Dean felt his heart shatter as she laid her lips against his. Her gentle hands on his face, the weight of her on his lap, the taste of her kiss brought his world to a screeching halt and he could barely breathe. She seemed to sense this, and she moved to kiss his forehead, climbing off his lap and crouching beside him. She took both of his hands and gently squeezed.

Dean took his hands from her and pushed them through his hair. God, he couldn't breathe. There was no air, and somewhere in his mind, he knew they were outside. Plenty of air around, right?

"Come on, honey. Breathe."

Dean gasped as he shook his head, and Melinda reached out, grabbing hold of his hand. She didn't keep her hand still in his, but kept her hand moving, squeezing, threading their fingers together, trailing her palm over the back of his hand.

"Dean. Hey, hey, hey. Talk to me. Come on, talk to me."

He let out another gasp, reaching out and taking hold of her face.

"I'm sorry."  
"For what?"  
"I'm _so_ sorry."  
"Why?"

He didn't answer, twitching his fingers on her jaw and giving a gentle pull. She went easily, sighing as their mouths met. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she let out a quiet moan as his hands slid down, pulling her up and onto his lap again. Her nails scratched through the beard on his face, and he moved to kiss his way down her neck. She gasped and held his face, then pulled away to bring his lips back to hers.

All around them, the snow was melting, and a frigid drop of water fell from the roof, sliding down the back of Dean's shirt. He let out a yelp and arched forward, catching Melinda as she bobbled on his lap. He glanced down at her, taking in the sight of how flushed her face was, the way her lips were swollen from his kiss. Her eyes were heavy and dark, and he swallowed, lifting a hand to brush her bangs out of her eyes.

"I never thought I'd see this again."

Her lips curved into a smile at his murmured words. She reached up, skating her fingers over his plump lips.

"I'm glad you're here."

Dean leaned down, kissing her again, slowly and gently, until she shivered in his arms. He pulled back and smiled at her, brushing her hair back from her face again.

"Come on. Let's go in where it's warm."

Melinda nodded, standing up and pushing her hair behind her ears, blushing furiously. Dean laughed to himself, standing up and laying a hand against her lower back as they walked inside.

* * *

"They're leaving, aren't they?"

Dean glanced up, cup of coffee halfway to his lips.

"What?"

Melinda let out a sigh, then walked over and sat in the chair beside him, pulling her legs up under her.

"Peyton and … Sam. They're gone, aren't they?"

Dean sighed, taking a sip from his mug, then setting it on the table in front of him.

"Yeah, babe. They're gone."

Melinda looked down at her hands, nodding her head. Dean ran a hand over his hair and licked his lips.

"Sammy's starting classes again soon, and Peyton's got a job at this salon thing, so they had to get home."

Melinda smiled.

"I get it. They've got lives to get back to. I didn't think they'd just stay here, you know? I knew they'd have to go back, but …"

She shrugged a shoulder, and Dean leaned closer to her.

"It's not because of you."

She nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip.

"That's not very convincing."

Dean sighed.

"All right, it scared Peyton. And she felt responsible."

Melinda lifted her head, blue eyes troubled when she looked at Dean.

"It scared me, too. I've never done that before. It was … agonizing, Dean."

He nodded his head, and she winced as she reached a hand up to her head.

"Just thinking about it makes my head hurt."

He reached across the table, taking her other hand in his. She shivered at his touch, the way she always did, then seemed to lean closer to him.

"Don't think about it."

Melinda nodded, blinking her eyes open. She gave him a smile, and he watched it disappear as her brows furrowed.

"What happened to your head?"

Dean's eyes widened just a bit, and he hissed out a breath as her fingers softly touched the burn on his temple. Her mouth was open just a bit, staring at the mark on his skin.

And he had a terrifying vision of her closing up, cutting him and everyone else off, blaming herself. It only lasted a millisecond, but after losing her once, Dean couldn't bear even the thought of it happening again.

He reached out, smiling softly as he took her hands.

"Got a little too close to Peyton when she was using her curling iron upstairs. Ironically, this is not the first time this has happened."

Melinda raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling.

"Peyton had a curling iron upstairs?"

Dean nodded.

"She was thinking about curling your hair for you."

Melinda slowly nodded, gently turning his face and studying the burn.

"Let me get a little something to put on there."  
"I'm fine, Mel."  
"Humor me."

Dean swallowed and nodded, fighting down the feeling of utter loathing that was crawling up his spine. He cleared his throat, and Melinda walked back beside him, sitting on her knees in the chair next to him and gently rubbing some kind of cooling ointment on the burn. Dean closed his eyes as she gently blew on it before leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and he turned his head to see her smiling at him.

"There. You'll be good as new."

Dean smiled, reaching to drag his fingers down her arm.

"I think I've got another hurt place."

Melinda smiled, eyes dancing.

"Somewhere I need to kiss and make it better?"

He nodded, and she raised an eyebrow, laughing out loud when he pointed to his lips. She cupped his face in her hands, then gently pressed her mouth to his. Dean smiled when she let out a quiet sigh, and he pulled back to kiss her nose. She smiled at him, gently patting his cheek before she stood up and left the kitchen.

Dean hung his head, pushing a hand through his hair, then dragging it down his face. He was doing the right thing. He knew that he was.

He just had to keep telling himself that.

* * *

**Quick Author's Note here: The song Dean sings is "The Weight," by The Band, just in case you didn't know. Jensen's said that it's one of his favorite songs, and it's one of mine, too. It's a good little confusing song. If you haven't heard Jensen sing "The Weight," you need to march on over to YouTube and watch it now. My favorite version is the one from the Jus In Bello con from 2010****. That's what I based the guitar scene on for this chapter. Hope you liked it!**


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Fifteen_

Melinda wiped her forehead on her arm and pressed down on the rolling pin, flattening the dough in front of her. She shifted and rolled the pin a different direction, and continued on until she was happy with the thickness. She placed the dough into a pan, patting it down, then lifting the bowl that she'd previously mixed and set aside, pouring the contents of the bowl into the pan with the dough in it.

She walked over and opened the oven, pulling out an apple pie she'd already made and sliding the cherry pie she'd just put together inside. She set the apple pie over near the window, beside the pecan pie that should be cool now, and walked to glance in the fridge, where both the key lime and the chocolate pies were setting up.

Alex stepped into the kitchen and came to a hard stop.

"Wow."

Melinda glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

"Hey."  
"Hey yourself, Marie Callendar. What in the world is this?"

Melinda glanced around, then shrugged her shoulders.

"I honestly don't know. I just woke up and wanted to bake. I tried to get the kids to pitch in, but they keep insisting on doing their homework."  
"Weirdos."  
"I know."

Alex let out a laugh, then walked to the refrigerator.

"Good grief, Mel. How many did you make?"

He turned to see Melinda with a sheepish smile on her face.

"Five?"  
"Five pies for no reason?"

She blew out a breath and Alex shut the refrigerator door, leaning up against it. Melinda shook her head, then looked up to meet his eyes.

"I really don't know why. Or how I knew how to make homemade pie crust and all of these pies from scratch."  
"You made all of these from scratch?"

She nodded, and Alex licked his lips.

"Marry me."

Melinda threw her head back and laughed, then walked over to go up on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek.

"I love you."

Alex winked at her, then turned and pulled some coffee creamer from the fridge. He walked to the coffeepot, then smiled.

"Oh, you'll never guess where Patrick, Steven, and Jake are."

Melinda met his eyes with an expectant expression, and Alex's smile grew.

"Dean found this garage a couple blocks over."  
"Oh, he told me about that. He's been giving them a hand with some stuff."  
"Right. Well, he took the boys on a field trip today, and last I heard, they were all elbow-deep in engine grease."  
"Really?"

Alex smiled as he stirred the cup of coffee he just made.

"Yep. Sounded like they were having a blast."

Melinda smiled, turning to carry empty bowls to the sink. She turned on the faucet and reached for the soap.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy."

Alex lowered Melinda to the floor, and she let out a groan as she put her face in her hand. Alex shut off the faucet and knelt beside her, gently touching her shoulder. She flinched away from him, and he pulled his hand back, swallowing hard.

"Mel?"

She shook her head, not looking up at him.

"Can you talk?"

She shivered, and her voice was barely a whisper.

"I don't … I don't know what's wrong. I—I can't see. I feel like I—like I'm underwater."

Alex reached out for her again, but let his hand fall before he touched her.

"What can I do?"

Melinda visibly swallowed, and she slowly shook her head. Alex let out a breath, then looked up as he heard the front door open. The boys rushed in, right behind Dean, who hit his knees behind Melinda. Alex shook his head, opening his mouth, closing it again when Dean's hand gently cupped the back of Melinda's head. She gasped, arching away from him, but he gently wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his chest.

"D—Dean?"  
"Right here, baby. Just breathe."

Melinda let out a whimper, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. Dean pushed his fingers through her hair, and Alex motioned for the boys, who had kept silent as they watched Dean and Melinda with wide eyes, to leave the kitchen. Alex stopped at the door, feeling a twist in his chest as he watched Dean encircle Melinda, as she leaned back onto him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Alex swallowed, nodding his head, then walked up the stairs to his office.

* * *

Dean gently rubbed his hand up and down Melinda's arm. She turned her head, letting her forehead rest against his cheek, and he moved just the slightest bit to press his lips against her skin. She let out a quiet sigh and he smiled.

"You okay?"

She nodded just the slightest, and made a noise when he went to move.

"Mel?"  
"Stay for a second."

Dean smiled, sitting on the floor with a grunt, pulling her closer against him. She seemed to melt into him, and he just kept touching her, drifting his fingertips across her face, playing with her hair, running his hand up and down her arm.

"You make it better."

Dean blinked, then looked at her, saw the tiny smile on her lips, the look of peace on her face as she kept her eyes closed. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and she blinked her eyes open, looking up at him. He gave her a smile, and she leaned up just enough to press her lips to his.

Dean let his hand come up, cupping her face, and she let out another soft sigh as he ended the kiss. She blinked open her eyes, smiling up at him as he helped her sit up, putting his arm around her and pulling her close to his side.

"Something smells good in here. What you got cooking?"

Melinda smiled, then got to her feet. Dean followed her, grunting and groaning as he stood up.

"I have no earthly idea why, but I've been baking all morning."  
"Baking what?"  
"Pies."  
"Pies?"

Dean's heart thudded in his chest, and Melinda nodded, slipping a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I've got like five of them."  
"What—what kind?"

Melinda ticked off on her fingers as she spoke.

"Chocolate, key lime, pecan, apple, and I'm just about to pull the cherry out of the oven."

Dean blinked wide eyes, nodding his head. She turned back to look at him just as he turned away, too afraid to look at her right then.

"Dean?"

He shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. Melinda turned back, slipping oven mitts onto her hands and pulling the cherry pie from the oven. She flipped the oven off, setting the pie on one of the cooling racks she'd set up around the kitchen. She slid the mitts off her hands, then turned to look at Dean.

When she heard the sniffle, she stopped in her tracks, one hand flying to her chest. For the first time, her mind was clear. No painful memories assaulting her senses, nothing like before where she felt as though she'd lost her senses. There was just one thing in her mind, and she lifted her head to stare at Dean's back.

"It's you."

She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took in a breath, and she felt the tears well up in her eyes.

"The pies, they … they're for you."

Dean slowly turned around, meeting her eyes, and she saw the tears in his emerald gaze. She smiled as best she could through her tears, and whispered softly.

"Happy birthday, Dean."

He stood there, still as a statue, until one tear rolled down his cheek. She made her way to him slowly, as if she were afraid she'd scare him off. She lifted a hand and cupped his cheek, using her thumb to wipe the tear away. She shook her head, murmuring softly.

"I didn't know why I was doing it. I just felt like I had to. And it wasn't until I saw you just then that it hit me. I remember that today is your birthday. I remember that and it doesn't hurt."

He reached up and took hold of her wrist, and she brought her other hand up to link with his. He shook his head, swallowing hard. Melinda blinked and a tear fell. Dean watched it slide down her cheek, then brought his eyes to hers. His voice was barely a whisper.

"I love you."

Melinda smiled, blinking as another tear fell.

"I know."

Dean's eyes widened, and he smiled widely.

"Did you just _Star Wars_ me?"

Melinda let out a laugh, and Dean pulled her into his arms, smiling down at her before laying his lips on hers. She ran her hand through his hair, and when he pulled back to look down at her, she rested her hand against his jaw. Dean gave her a smile, and she gently pushed her thumb along his lips.

"How old are you today?"

Dean smiled.

"Thirty-three."  
"Happy birthday."

He closed his eyes at her whispered statement, then bent to kiss her again. He stepped away from her, running a hand along his chin, then letting out a breath.

"I'm going to step outside for a minute, okay?"  
"Yeah, sure. Don't be too long. There's … there's a lot of pie here."

Dean let out a laugh, then nodded as he walked over and stepped out the back door. He walked until he was around the side of the building, away from the windows.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the rush of emotion, crouching down low and biting his fist to keep from screaming out loud. Every cell in his body was urging him to go back inside, to take Melinda in his arms and run with her, to just go and never stop. He wanted to tell her everything, the good and the bad, to get it all out on the table.

But how could he? How could he do that? How could he break her heart, when she was already so fragile?

He was so selfish.

He stood up and pushed his hands through his hair, forcefully exhaling, shaking his head. He wanted to hit something, absolutely destroy it. He wished he had Baby here, so he could just climb in and drive.

Instead, he reached into the pocket of the jacket he'd somehow remembered to grab on the way out of the kitchen and grabbed the packet of cigarettes. He tapped one out, lighting up and taking a long, deep inhale. He held the acrid air in his lungs as long as he could before he finally blew it out. He closed his eyes as he took another burning drag, holding it for as long as he could until he exhaled again.

He glanced back when he heard the door open, and his heart gave a hard thud against his ribcage when he saw her. Melinda had a thick coat on, and a scarf around her neck. Dean flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette, and she smiled as she walked over to him. She nodded towards his hand, and he let out a sigh.

"Mel—"  
"Spoiler alert: I already knew. You can't really hide the smell, you know?"  
"I can quit. If it bothers you, I can—"  
"Take a breath."

He pushed his hand through his hair again, then looked down at the cigarette. He looked up to see her watching him, eyes trained on his hand. He flicked the cigarette again, and her eyes widened, before she looked up to meet his eyes.

"Can I try it?"

He blinked, then did it again before slowly looking to his hand, then back to her. He started to shake his head and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't think I ever smoked. Not like I can really remember, but …"  
"You didn't. I used to, when I was younger, but it never became a habit."  
"Until now?"

Dean swallowed, then looked to her. She raised her eyebrows, lifting a shoulder, and he held the cigarette up. She smiled as she stepped closer to him, taking hold of his wrist. She leaned over, her lips getting closer and closer to the cigarette, and Dean couldn't help himself.

"Don't."

The word was almost silent, choked out of his throat before he could stop it. Melinda heard him, and straightened, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Dean?"  
"Please, don't. Just … Please."

She blinked, and Dean let out a gasping breath as he dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his heel. He pushed his hands through his hair, shaking his head before he covered his face with both hands. Melinda stepped to him, laying a hand on his back, and he let out another gasp.

"It's okay. Dean, everything's all right."

He kept shaking his head, crouching down low again. This time, Melinda stayed right beside him, crouching down, rubbing her hand along his back. He gasped, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

"There's so … so much I need—to tell you. So much you—you need to know."  
"Hey, listen to me."

He shook his head, and she moved to where she could cup his face in her hands, forcing him to lift his head and look at her.

"I know. I know how this feels, okay? You're scared and you're hurt and you're not sure which way is up. I felt that way for six months, Dean. Six whole months, I had trouble remembering how to breathe. Until I saw you."

Tears slid silently down his cheeks, but neither of them acknowledged them.

"I can breathe around you. I remember things, and sometimes that sucks. Sometimes it doesn't, though. All I know is that you make it better. I feel better when I'm around you."

Dean's eyes closed again, and he lifted his hands to hold her wrists.

"I didn't think I was going to make it."

His voice was so soft, and he finally opened his eyes to meet hers.

"Six months without you was the worst time in my life. And I … my life hasn't been easy, Mel. But you … You make it better for me, too. I can breathe again, and I—I …"

He sighed, groaning as he stood up, helping her up, seeing her wince as she stood as well. He stepped to her, taking her hands.

"Can I be honest with you?"  
"Please."

Dean nodded, letting go of her hands and moving to cup her face between his palms. His heart leapt when she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She blinked her pretty eyes open, and he swallowed.

"I just want to wrap you in my arms and never let you go again. I want to take you away from this place and never look back. Just go, me and you, and I don't even know the hell where."

She gave him a soft smile, then let out a quiet laugh.

"I can't just leave, Dean. Alex can't cook worth a damn, and the kids—"  
"I know."

He smiled, but he couldn't hide the pain in his eyes. What she saw in his grass-green gaze embedded itself in her heart, and tears came to her eyes. A look of concern crossed his face, and she wiggled until he let her go, only to have her put her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He laced his arms around her without a second thought, holding her tight enough that he could feel each shuddering breath she gave. He smiled, kissing the top of her head, then speaking softly.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

Melinda smiled, shivering at the way his deep voice rumbled up through his chest under her ear.

"I have a feeling we've always been this way."  
"You're right."

She let out a laugh, and Dean patted her back.

"Come on. Let's get inside before we freeze to death."

* * *

Melinda watched him for the rest of the night. He smiled and laughed when the kids found out it was his birthday and sang to him, horrendously off-key, with a lit candle in a piece of pecan pie. They all gathered in the living room to watch _Dirty Harry_, of all movies, and that night…

Melinda couldn't sleep. She laid in bed for the longest time, staring at the clock or the wall, closing her eyes to try to get to sleep, but ultimately failing. She thought about getting up and going for some ice cream, or hot cocoa, or even warm milk, but stayed in bed instead. And just when she was about to turn her lamp on to read a book, a soft knock sounded at her door.

She looked over to see Dean poke his head in, hair ruffled, wearing a gray t-shirt and the red flannel pajama pants they'd picked out together. Melinda turned the lamp on, smiling when Dean squinted his eyes and scowled.

"Hey. Everything okay?"

Dean coughed into his arm, then stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Without saying a word, he lifted the covers and crawled in bed beside her, and Melinda smiled as she flipped the lamp back off, laying down on her side. Dean was doing the same, and they stared at each other for a while in the dark.

"I couldn't sleep."  
"I had a bad dream."

A soft smile crossed her face, and she reached out to brush her fingers through his hair.

"Maybe we should stop trying to fight it."  
"Fight what?"

She moved just a bit closer to him.

"That we can't sleep without each other."

Dean's eyes closed, and Melinda continued to move her fingers through his hair.

"Every night, we always end up here."  
"I'm sorry."  
"I'm not. I slept like crap for six months, Dean. Ever since you've been here, I sleep like a baby."

He shook his head, moving forward to wrap her in his arms, but instead of holding her the way he usually did, he tucked his head, putting his face in her neck. Her eyes drifted closed as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm right here, Dean."

It was kind of jarring for her, to be the one offering comfort instead of being comforted. She could feel Dean's warm breath against her neck, thought she might have felt the moisture from tears on her skin, but she didn't say anything. When Dean's breaths evened out and his hold on her loosened slightly, she let out a long, shaky breath.

"I love you."

She whispered the words so softly she couldn't even hear them herself. She closed her eyes, kissing his hair again, resting her cheek on top of his head. She wanted them to stay like this forever. Safe and warm, wrapped around each other, with the world light-years away. She knew it wasn't plausible, but that didn't help the longing.

She hadn't even realized that she'd almost drifted to sleep until she felt Dean jerk beside her. Melinda's arms had fallen from around him, and she'd moved backwards some. Why, she didn't know. But when she heard the wounded, heartbreaking whimper that Dean gave, she wasted no time in moving closer to him. Her arms wound around him again, and he jerked awake, gasping for breath.

Melinda kept her eyes closed, shushing him softly, sucking in a breath when he wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly. Her hands went to his head, palm resting against his cheek and fingers carding through his hair.

"It's all right, Dean. I'm right here."  
"Don't ever leave me again. Please."  
"I won't."  
"Mel—"  
"Shh."

She moved until she could kiss him, and he relaxed, the tension in his body bleeding out as her lips moved over his. She pulled back and kissed his forehead, pulling him back to where his forehead was resting on her collarbone. He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as she continued to push her fingers through his hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I promise."


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Sixteen_

Melinda bit her lip as she stood in the frigid wind, watching the crowd below her. Dean was right behind her, arms on either side of her, holding onto the railing in front of them. She closed her eyes as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her cold cheek.

"You were right. This is nice."

She blinked her eyes open to look at the people skating across the ice, then turned to face him. Dean smiled as he looked down and met her eyes, and she bit the bullet.

"I want to go ice skating."

He blinked, and deep crinkles shone beside his eyes as his smile widened.

"Let's do it."

He took her hand and she blinked before she hurried to catch up with him. He paid for both of them to rent skates, then led her inside the building to tell the girl at the desk both of their shoe sizes. He led her over to a bench and sat down, unlacing his boots and sliding his feet into the ice skates.

"Dean?"

He glanced up, giving Melinda a smile.

"Yeah, babe?"  
"Have we done this before?"

He finished tying one skate, then moved to the other one.

"Ice skated?"

She nodded, and he went still for a minute, then shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. Brand new memories for both of us."

Melinda nodded, sliding her feet into the skates. She started to protest, but ended up sitting back as Dean laced her skates up, tying them securely. He left his coat inside, walking out in a black Henley under a thick green plaid flannel. Melinda swallowed, dropping her coat beside his, walking outside in a thick sweater, gloves, and a scarf around her neck.

Dean smiled as she stepped outside, and he held out his hand for her. She slipped her gloved hand in his and he walked her towards the ice, stopping suddenly when she did.

"Mel?"

He turned back to look at her, and she shook her head.

"I … I'm scared."  
"Of ice skating?"

Dean couldn't help his smile, and Melinda looked up to him and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't want to fall."

Dean's smile softened, and he stepped as close to her as he could. She closed her eyes when he reached up, gently moving a piece of hair out of her face. He bent down to where he was face-to-face with her, and she blinked her eyes open to see him.

"I won't let you fall. I promise."

Melinda swallowed, then nodded. Dean leaned over and kissed her forehead, then helped her step out onto the ice. She had a death grip on his hands, and he just smiled.

"You can hold onto the side if you want. It might be better if you do, until you get used to it."

Melinda nodded, reaching one hand over to grab onto the rail, keeping hold of Dean with her other hand. Dean smiled, slowly skating beside her. They made an entire lap around the rink with Melinda holding onto the side, before Dean convinced her to take a chance and step away.

Dean was a surprisingly good ice skater, something Melinda had not foreseen. He held onto her hands and skated backwards, coaxing her into actually skating instead of "stepping" across the ice. She stumbled once or twice, and each time, she found herself safe and sound in Dean's arms, standing or leaning against the side.

They made their way around the ice a few times, and on the one time she was feeling particularly brave, well … they did fall. Dean wrapped her up in his arms and they both knew there was no way they were staying upright. But Dean flipped them at the last second and Melinda crashed into his chest while he fell onto the ice.

"God _damn_, that's cold."

Melinda couldn't say anything, because she couldn't stop laughing. Dean just shook his head, a wide smile on his face, and with an unspoken agreement, they both made their way off the ice. Melinda sighed when she was in the warmth of the locker room again, both of them groaning as they removed their ice skates and slipped their shoes back on.

Dean held Melinda's hand and she walked right by his side as they walked back to Carly's House. At the front steps, she turned and gave him a smile.

"Thank you."  
"For what?"

She shrugged her shoulders, cheeks growing warm.

"For ice skating with me. I know it's kind of lame, but—"  
"Hey."

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Lame or not, I had a great time."

They smiled at each other, until Dean clicked his tongue.

"Well, up until that last time."

They both laughed, and Melinda turned, walking up the steps. Dean was right behind her, and they both headed for the kitchen. Notes on the refrigerator revealed that Alex had taken the kids out for "pizza and mischief," and to not wait up for them.

"Pizza sounds good."

Melinda smiled over at Dean, narrowing her eyes when she saw him staring absently out the window, moving his shoulder back and forth.

"Dean?"

He lifted his eyebrows as he looked to her, and she nodded towards his shoulder.

"You okay?"

He nodded, lifting a hand to rest at the top of his arm.

"Yeah, I just tweaked my shoulder when I fell. Old injuries, you know?"  
"Can I help?"

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as she walked over and laid her hands on the aching joint.

"Mel, I—"  
"Come upstairs. I've got some IcyHot in the bathroom that we can rub on it."

Dean swallowed, but followed her up the stairs. He sat on the bed, at her request, and she walked into the bathroom, rummaging around while she talked to him.

"Once upon a time, Alex thought that rubbing IcyHot on my neck might help with my headaches. It didn't, of course, but I thought the gesture was sweet. Oh, here it is."

Melinda walked out of the bathroom with the tube of cream in her hand and a victorious smile on her face. The smile slid from her face and recognition dawned on Dean's when they both realized what had to happen next. Melinda looked down at the tube in her hands, speaking softly.

"You … you're going to have to—to take your shirt off."

Dean stayed frozen on the bed for a moment, then nodded.

"If you're uncomfortable, I can—"  
"Oh, no! No, I—I'm fine. If _you're_ uncomfortable, I can—"  
"No!"

They stared at each other for a moment, before Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head as he laughed quietly. Melinda bit her lip as she tried to hold in her laughter, looking over to see Dean looking back at her. She stepped closer to him, looking at her hands before bringing her eyes to his. He reached out and touched her arm, sliding his hand up and down, and she took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, right?"

Dean's eyes widened, but he nodded slowly, and she smiled.

"Do you need some help?"

He shook his head, stepping back from her.

"No, I … I got this."

She watched as he slid the flannel off his shoulders, taking hold of the bottom of his Henley and pulling it over his head. Melinda blinked as his bare torso came into her view, and she let out a long breath. Dean cleared his throat, and she brought her eyes to his. He motioned with his head.

"It's my … right shoulder."  
"Right. Okay."

Melinda motioned for him to sit on the bed, and he did, closing his eyes as she walked around the bed, crawling up behind him. He heard her suck in a breath, and his eyes drifted closed. He flinched, hard, when her fingers skated over his skin, over the black ink on the back of his shoulder.

"Dean, what is … what is this?"

He couldn't open his eyes. He'd gotten the tattoo on their first anniversary. It wasn't much; just a beautiful cursive "M" and their wedding date. Tears sprang to his eyes as he felt the feather-soft touch, tracing over the script tattooed into his skin.

"This is for me, isn't it?"

He couldn't answer her soft question. He didn't know how to put it into words. He'd been hurting so badly, so wrapped up in his grief that he couldn't even think straight. He wanted something tangible that he could remember her by, even though it wasn't like he'd ever be able to forget her.

He hadn't told anyone about the tattoo. He didn't even think Sammy knew about it. This was something just for him, something about her that only he knew.

And now, she knew it, too.

"Is this … when I had the accident? This date?"

Dean opened his eyes, staring at the chest of drawers across from him. That would certainly be easier to explain than the truth. God, he hated himself for lying to her, but … He didn't have a choice.

"Yeah."

His voice was raw and throaty, tainted by the tears he was diligently trying not to shed. He closed his eyes again, but they sprang open when soft, cool hands slid over his chest, holding him in a backwards hug. Melinda put her face at his neck, and he felt the dampness of her tears against his skin.

"I'm so sorry."  
"Mel."  
"I'm so sorry you … you had to go through this. It's not fair."  
"Sweetheart, hey."

He turned to look at her, and she stubbornly shook her head, tears still slipping down her face.

"Don't tell me it's okay, because it's not. You shouldn't have had to deal with that. I mean …"

She lifted a hand and pressed it against her lips.

"Did you have a funeral? Did everyone mourn me, only to discover that I'm alive and well and doing fine?"

Not "doing fine." _Thriving_. She shook her head again, continuing.

"How could I have forgotten everything that was once so important to me?"

She looked to him, new tears sparkling in her eyes.

"How can I not remember you?"

Dean moved closer to her, taking her hand.

"Listen to me. Hey, come on now. Come here."

Melinda let out a sob as she moved closer to him, letting him wrap her in his strong arms, feeling peace beginning to wash over her. Dean took in a breath, speaking softly.

"I know that it's hard. And I know that it sucks. But you can't run yourself into the ground with this. You're remembering all sorts of things, baby. You remembered my birthday last week, without any prompting or anything."  
"But the other things that I remember … they don't make any sense."  
"They will."

Melinda blew out a breath, pushing away from him, standing up and pushing her hands through her hair.

"How can you be so sure? How can you sit there and say that and … and believe it?"

Dean looked up at her, then back down to his hands. His eyes caught the thin band of lighter skin around his ring finger, where his wedding ring used to sit, and he looked back to her again. He slowly stood to his feet, walking to her and cupping her face in his hands.

"I believe it because I know you. Because if I didn't believe it, I think I'd lose my damn mind. Because it's my job to be there for you and push you and believe in you when you can't believe in yourself. I love you, and I will always believe that you can do anything you set your mind to, and if that's getting back the memories you lost, then I have no doubt that you'll do it."

Melinda stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open slightly, breathing heavy. Dean licked his lips in that involuntary habit that he had, and Melinda went up on her toes, hands on his shoulders as she pulled him to her, until their mouths met.

She gave a quiet sigh, drifting back to her flat feet as Dean leaned over, letting his hands slide from her face to wrap around her. He sucked in a breath when her hands danced over his bare back, one settling low, just above his jeans, the other pressing against his tattoo.

"Mel."  
"I'm right here."

She murmured against his lips, and she tightened her hold on him as he turned them slowly, gently laying her down on the bed. He looked down at her and she gave a quiet moan until he smiled and kissed her again. He kissed from her lips to her cheek, down to her neck, and she arched up against him as his beard tickled her skin.

"Dean."

She gasped when his hands slid beneath the thick sweater she wore, digging her nails into his shoulders when his rough, calloused hands spread across her lower back.

"Easy, baby. Breathe."

Melinda whimpered until his mouth found hers again, and her hands slid up into his hair. He started pushing up her sweater and she shivered when the cool air of the room hit her skin. He lifted his head to look down at her, and they both went still when a faint buzzing could be heard. She glanced towards the dresser, where Dean's phone was, and he let out a sigh. He leaned down to kiss her once more, then stood up, walking to the dresser and answering the call.

"Hello? … Sam. Everything okay?"

Melinda sat up, doing her best not to eavesdrop on the call. She pulled her sweater back down, feeling like her cheeks were on fire. She glanced to the open bathroom, seeing her disheveled appearance in the mirror that hung on the back of the door. She sighed, reaching up to try to smooth her hair.

"Yeah, I'll uh … I'll see what I can do. You too, Sammy."

Dean ended the call, setting his phone back down. He stood there at the dresser for a few moments, his back to her, lifting a hand to rub at his shoulder. Melinda cleared her throat and he glanced back, to see her sitting on her knees with the tube of IcyHot in her hands.

"Come sit down."

Dean sighed, walking over and sitting on the bed, closing his eyes as her soft hands began rubbing the cream into his aching shoulder, the smell of menthol filling the air. Dean groaned when Melinda started massaging, his face twisted in pain, until the pain started to give way.

"Am I hurting you?"

Her voice was soft, and he shook his head, reaching back to squeeze her knee.

"No, it … it feels good. Thank you."

She nodded, gentling her touch a bit. Dean lifted his hand to wipe down his face, then let out a sigh.

"That was Sam. You probably heard that."

Melinda nodded, and Dean went on.

"He, uh … He called to let me know that he and Peyton set a date."  
"A date?"  
"For their wedding."

Melinda took in a breath, and he glanced back to see a smile on her face.

"When?"

Dean smiled back at her.

"Valentine's Day. Cliché, much?"

Melinda let out a laugh.

"It's sweet."  
"It's in two weeks."

Melinda went still.

"Oh. Oh, you're … you have to go to it."

She shook her head, pushing a smile on her face.

"He's your brother. You have to be there."

Dean reached back and took her hands, turning to face her.

"They want you there, too."

Melinda's eyes widened, and Dean reached up, laying his hand on her face, gently running his thumb along her cheek. His voice was soft when he spoke.

"We don't have to go. We can stay here."

Melinda shook her head, speaking just as softly.

"We can't do that. It's their wedding. We can't …"

She swallowed, and Dean moved closer, wrapping an arm around her. She put her face in his shoulder, then turned and rested her cheek against it, and he closed his eyes at the feel of her breath against his neck.

"You said she … Peyton … is my best friend?"

Dean nodded. Melinda was quiet, then swallowed again.

"Then I should … I should be there for her wedding."  
"What are you scared of?"

Melinda let out a laugh, moving closer to him, putting her forehead right where his neck met his shoulder. He tightened his hold on her, and she let out a breath.

"What I'm really afraid of is … seeing my family and not remembering them. Seeing my mom and not even knowing who she is."

Dean felt the surge of tears that came with that statement, and he closed his eyes.

"Mel…"  
"If I go and I lock eyes with my mother and don't have any spark of recognition … I don't know if I can handle that, Dean. How hurt she'll be. How hurt I'll be."

She gave a quiet sob and lifted her head, moving to crawl into his lap. Dean let out a sigh, wrapping his arms around her, stroking his hand through her hair. She gave a shuddering sigh, scooting closer to him. He let out a sigh, and she gave a soundless laugh.

"You stink."

Dean laughed, moving to kiss her temple.

"It's your fault."

Melinda laughed, pressing her nose against his neck, both of them letting out a sigh of content.

* * *

Melinda was sitting at the kitchen table when Alex walked into it the next morning. He gave her a smile, yawning as he walked to the coffeepot. He poured himself a cup of coffee, took a sip, made a horrible face, and walked to the refrigerator, searching out creamer.

Melinda smiled, and Alex sat down across from her, letting out a groan as he yawned again, then took a sip from his coffee.

"You make the best brew, you know that?"

Melinda let out a quiet laugh. Alex leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh.

"Mel, what's up?"

She gave another quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"That obvious?"  
"I'm just good at reading you."

Melinda sighed, reaching up to push a hand through her hair.

"There's … Dean's brother called last night. He and his fiancé …"

Melinda closed her eyes, letting out a sigh.

"My cousin. His fiancé is my cousin."  
"Mel—"

She shook her head, pushed a smile on her face and continued.

"Anyway, they have set a wedding date. Valentine's Day."

Alex made a face.

"How romantic."

Melinda let out a laugh, and Alex slowly nodded.

"Oh, I see. You … you need to be there for the wedding."

Melinda nodded as she looked down at the mug in her hands, coffee long gone. Alex leaned forward, putting a hand on her arm.

"Mel, you have to go."

She lifted her head to look at him, tears sparkling in her blue eyes.

"How? How am I supposed to just drop everything and head to California?"  
"To your family, sweetheart."

Melinda gave a humorless laugh.

"Right. The family I can't even remember."  
"Maybe you'll remember when you see them."  
"And maybe I won't, and maybe I'll hurt them even more."

She pushed away from the table, walking to the sink and staring out the window. The snow had melted, was all but gone now. The wind still had a bite to it, and spring was a long, long ways away. It wouldn't be like that in California.

Melinda hung her head when Alex walked up behind her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She spoke quietly, shaking her head.

"How am I supposed to leave the kids?"

Alex sighed, leaning forward to kiss her hair.

"They'll be fine."  
"Alex—"  
"Kids are resilient. You've told me that, remember?"

Melinda shook her head, turning to face him.

"What about me? I don't think I'm resilient."  
"Are you kidding me? Melinda."

Alex took hold of her shoulders.

"You are the strongest person I have ever met. Ever. You should have been knocked down by the first memory you had, the first headache. But you get back up. Every time, the excruciating pain you go through, you still get up the next day."

Melinda let out a breath, and Alex moved his hands down to link with hers.

"You have to go. Those people can help you. You just have to let them."  
"But I don't want to hurt them, and if I see them and don't recognize them, that's exactly what I'll do."  
"Well, yeah. I'm not going to lie to you, honey. It will hurt. It will suck for them. But if they're anything like you, they won't give up. Hurt or not, they'll push through to get their girl back."

Melinda smiled a very small smile, and Alex moved to kiss her temple. Melinda stepped closer to him, putting her face in his chest. Alex smiled as he gently stroked her hair, and she sniffled as she turned her head, resting her cheek against his chest.

"What about … what about the kids? How can I just leave them, Alex? After I promised them all that I'd be here for them, what? I'm just going to go?"

Alex let out a sigh, closing his eyes. Melinda sniffled again, and Alex shook his head.

"Listen. The kids … they'll understand."  
"Alex."  
"No, I'm serious."

Alex put a smile on his face.

"They know how important this is. They know what this means. They're happy for you, Mel. They want you to be as happy as you've made them. So, yeah. It's going to suck when you leave. But I … I'm glad you're getting the chance to go."

Tears were pouring down Melinda's cheeks, and she let out a sob as Alex pulled her to him again, resting his head on top of hers and blinking back tears of his own. Melinda gave a shuddering sigh, then sniffled, speaking clearly.

"I'll come back. It won't be forever. Dean and I, we'll be back."

Alex smiled, even though in his heart, he knew that wasn't true. He nodded, lifting a hand to wipe at his eyes.

"Sounds great, babe."

Melinda nodded, and Alex leaned down to kiss her forehead, resting his head back on hers when she made no move to leave his embrace.

* * *

Charlie sat on Melinda's bed, watching her take clothes from the closet and fold them, placing them in a suitcase. Melinda and Alex had told all the kids at dinner the night before that she was leaving to go to her family, and while everyone forced smiles and told her how happy they were for her, it was almost like a dark cloud had settled over Carly's House. The normally raucous adolescents were subdued, and the quiet was almost too loud.

Melinda had invited the girls up to help her pack, but only Charlie had taken her up on the offer. The redhead had always felt a pull to Melinda, and Melinda had a soft spot for the quirky teenager.

"Hey, Mel?"

Melinda set the sweater she'd been folding into the suitcase and turned to Charlie. The girl smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

"You know it's warmer in California than it is here."

Melinda nodded, and Charlie's smile grew.

"Well, all you've packed are heavy sweaters."

Melinda looked down at her suitcase, then let out a laugh.

"That's all I have, Charlie. I stay so cold that anything lighter seemed like a waste of time."  
"Maybe a—a warmer place will help you out."

Melinda nodded, walking over and laying a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"I'm sorry we never got to marathon the _Lord of the Rings_ movies."

Charlie let out a watery laugh, shaking her head.

"It's okay. Dean and I have talked. You'll be watching them very soon."

Melinda laughed, closing her eyes when Charlie suddenly stood up, throwing her arms around Melinda and burying her face in Melinda's sweater. Charlie was crying as quietly as she could, and Melinda swallowed the sob she wanted to give, gently stroking Charlie's hair.

"Shh. It's okay. Hey, Charlie. It's all right."

Charlie cried as she held onto Melinda, who just held her and let her get it out. When she had calmed some, Melinda leaned back, cupping Charlie's face in her hands.

"You have my cell phone and my email. You set up that email, right?"

Charlie smiled through the tears in her eyes, nodding her head. Melinda nodded back, smiling softly.

"Anytime at all, you can call me. Text me. Email me. Whatever you want to do, okay?"

Charlie nodded.

"I mean it, sweetheart. I can be back here like that."

Melinda snapped her fingers, and Charlie nodded again.

"I—I just … I'm going to miss you. I like seeing you every day, and having you try to teach me to cook."

Melinda let out a shaky laugh.

"Oh, Charlie. I'm going to miss you too, honey. But we—we'll visit again soon. Dean and I will be back. I promise."

Charlie nodded, and Melinda pulled her back in for one more hug. They pulled apart, each of them wiping their eyes and faces, and Charlie walked to the dresser, pulling Melinda's sock drawer open and starting to match socks together as Melinda continued folding clothes.

* * *

Dean glanced across the backseat of the yellow cab, seeing Melinda sitting across from him, looking out the other window, reaching up every now and then to wipe errant tears from her cheeks.

Saying goodbye had been hard. Even for him, and he wasn't as invested in the kids as Melinda was. Sure, he cared about them, would probably worry about them every now and then. But Mel loved them. And they loved her. They all tried to be strong, to be happy for her, but there wasn't a dry eye in the house once Dean finally got her out the door at the threat of missing their flight.

He let out a sigh, and she glanced over her shoulder, red-rimmed eyes locking on him. He gave her a soft smile and she slid across the seat, settling right next to his side, putting her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, gently rubbing her arm.

"I got you, Mel."  
"P—promise me something."  
"Anything."  
"Promise me that wasn't the last time I'll see them. That we … that we'll come back."  
"We will, sweetheart. I promise you, we'll be back."

Melinda nodded, leaning to rest her forehead against Dean's jaw as the tears continued.

* * *

Dean let out a quiet breath, closing his eyes and trying to find his … what the hell did Sam call it? "Center of peace," or some bullshit like that? He shifted in the chair that was too small, too cramped, and his seatbelt was too tight.

If he was meant to fly, he'd have wings, damn it.

He blew out another breath, eyes opening at the whimper he heard from the seat next to him. He glanced over and saw that Melinda's eyes were squeezed shut, and she had the arm rests in what can only be described as a death grip. Her knuckles were white, for Christ's sake. He reached over and dragged his finger up and down the back of her hand, letting out a laugh when her death grip transferred from the arm rest to his hand.

"Easy, baby. I think you're crushing bone."

She let out a shuddering breath and Dean leaned over, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. She opened her blue eyes, fear evident in her gaze. Dean leaned closer to her, lifting his hand to run the backs of his fingers across her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, shaking her head.

"I don't think I like flying."

Dean let out a quiet laugh.

"Me either."  
"Then what the hell are we doing on a plane?"

Dean laughed again.

"Because my car is in California and this is the quickest way to get there."

Melinda gave another whimper, and the plane began to move. She gripped Dean's hand again, and he lifted it, pressing his lips to her white knuckles.

"Just breathe, baby."  
"I like it when you call me 'baby.'"

Dean closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

"You've always told me you did."

Melinda leaned back and closed her eyes, rolling her head to the left. Dean had given her the window seat—not like it was a huge sacrifice for him. Without ever opening his eyes, Dean rolled his head to the right, and Melinda let out a soft sigh when she felt his breath on her forehead. She loosened her grip on his hand, and Dean lifted her hand to his lips again.

"Tell me that everything's going to be okay."

Dean swallowed, the barely whispered words branding themselves on his heart. He moved as close to her as the confining seat allowed, reaching over to rub his thumb along her jawline.

"Everything's going to be okay, Mel. I promise, baby."

She nodded, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead. He wanted to believe the words, but his heart wouldn't let him. But, she needed him to be convincing, so he made himself be. She kept holding onto his hand, letting her other one come up to the chain around his neck, tracing over the bumps under his shirt. He hadn't let her see the necklace, hadn't let anyone see it, but for some reason, she found comfort in letting her fingers trace over his shirt. It reminded him of Sammy, the way he used to do the same thing to the amulet Dean used to wear before he—

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the soft whimper beside him as the plane turned, preparing for takeoff.

"It's okay, Mel."

She made a noise of agreement—not that he believed it—and his eyes opened when he heard a different sound coming from the seat beside him.

"Are you … are you humming?"

Melinda nodded, and Dean couldn't help the smile.

"Are you humming … Metallica?"  
"It calms me down."

Dean let out a laugh, and Melinda blinked open her eyes to see him smiling at her. He shook his head, and he didn't even have to say the words. The love was evident in his green eyes. He said it anyway.

"I love you."  
"I know."

She only said that because it made him laugh, and he leaned over the arm rest to kiss her mouth. Her hand came up to let her fingers push through the beard on his face, and neither of them noticed the plane speeding up before taking off.

* * *

Melinda fell asleep somewhere over Iowa, but she never let go of Dean's hand. He draped his jacket over her when she shivered once, and he spent most of the time sitting back in his seat, just thinking. He did manage to sweet-talk the stewardess into letting him have peanuts, pretzels, _and_ cookies, and he tucked a packet of each one in the jacket for Melinda to find later.

He couldn't lie; he was worried about getting her home.

_Home_.

Did she understand the magnitude of that concept?

Considering the fact that she didn't know much—or any—of Dean's past, probably not.

He pushed a hand through his hair, glancing over to study her sleeping form. He'd always loved to watch her sleep, because she somehow seemed even more beautiful than usual. Her face relaxed, not burdened. The way she always seemed to angle her body close to him, even when she was pissed at him. They'd go to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, backs to each other, and wake up all tangled together.

Dean swallowed, reaching over to brush some hair from her face. She wrinkled her nose, then relaxed again. He smiled, keeping his hand on the back of her head as he watched her some more.

His mind drifted again as he kept his eyes on her sleeping form. He didn't know how he'd introduce Bobby, because God knows the man would be on his way to San Fran if he had any clue Melinda was on her way back. Dean went over all of her family members in his head, and suddenly remembered what Piper had told him when he'd called her yesterday. Chris and his wife had gone on trip through Europe, starting at the toe of the boot of Italy and making their way up and out. They'd left at the beginning of the year and weren't planning on coming back until at least June. So Melinda would miss "meeting" her brother and new sister-in-law.

Even with those two absent, there were still so many people. Piper and Leo, of course. Wyatt and Kate. Phoebe and Coop, Paige and Henry. Paris and Ridge, who was now considered basically a part of the family. Jenny and Anna and Matt, and their significant others, if they had them now.

And, of course, Sam and Peyton.

Dean let out a sigh, finally admitting to himself that what he was worried about wasn't actually the people. He was kind of looking forward to them interacting with Melinda again. And he'd sort of missed them himself.

No, what he was terrified of was the chance that magic would return.

His biggest fear was that she'd step into the Manor and get her powers back.

Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing.

Oh, hell. Yes, it would. Demons and monsters would come back, too. They'd have to go hunting again, and angels might—_would_—try and stick their nose in everyone's business again. They might get to see Cas again, but…

What would Melinda do with powers? How could she handle that? He'd heard the stories of what it had been like when the Charmed Ones first received their powers. What it took for them to get the hang of them. It had been hard, but they'd done it, and they'd gone on to be the most powerful witches in history.

And Melinda had a bit of each of them in her.

So what had happened to each of the Charmed Ones would happen to Melinda. While she was trying to regain the memories she'd lost. Instead of dealing with trying to control one power, she had … Dean pushed his hand through his hair again.

She was so … _fragile_. Dean hated to think that, but it was the truth. His tough, badass witch of a wife was gone. Melinda might still be there, but she was _not_ the same person anymore. Her personality was almost identical, but the hard edge that hunting and killing demons and monsters had given her was smoothed away. She had an air of fragility that seemed to surround her, and it only increased when she started to remember something and a migraine knocked her down.

Dean swallowed. He didn't know what they would do when magic came back. Because he knew, with Melinda alive and heading home, it was only a matter of time now.

* * *

"Baby? Mel, sweetheart. Wake up."

Melinda gave a quiet sigh and blinked her eyes open. She had a view of Dean's neck, realizing that she'd been sleeping on his shoulder, and she pulled her head back to see him smiling down at her.

"We're here."

Blue eyes went wider as she blinked again, and she sat up, groaning as she looked out the window.

"We landed?"  
"Yeah, I let you sleep through that."  
"And you made it just fine."

Dean let out a laugh, leaning over to kiss her temple. He watched her unbuckle her seatbelt and stretch. He cleared his throat.

"I got your bag, and in just a second, they'll let us get off."

She turned to look at him, a smile on her sleepy face.

"My hero."

Dean laughed, shaking his head, and the plane came to a stop, lights coming on. Everyone started standing up in the aisle, and Dean stepped out, groaning as his muscles protested. He held out a hand and Melinda took it, following him off the plane. He carried her bag, despite her quiet protest, and held her hand as they walked to the baggage claim.

"Hey, uh, Sam called this morning."

She looked down at him from her spot on the escalator step above him.

"He did?"  
"Yeah. He's got a cab waiting on us here."  
"Really? That was nice."

Dean nodded, then took off at a run from the escalator, grabbing both of their suitcases just before they disappeared. Melinda laughed at the sight, then met him halfway.

"You really are a hero."  
"I just don't want to stand around and wait."  
"Mr. Impatient."  
"Exactly."

She laughed again, and he took her hand, walking outside, and she gasped. He looked back at her and she blinked, turning her head and looking down the building, blinking again. He stepped close to her, and her eyes flashed back to him when he cupped her chin in his hand.

"You okay?"

She blinked a few times, then nodded.

"It—it's warm."

Dean smiled.

"A lot warmer than New York, huh?"

She nodded, looking down the side of the building like she'd done before.

"Mel?"

Her eyes came back to him and she smiled.

"Fine. I—I'm fine."  
"You sure?"

She nodded as she smiled, and Dean led her to a taxicab that was at the curb. She climbed in the back while he helped the driver load their bags into the trunk of the car. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing at the base of her skull.

Stepping out of the airport, into the somewhat fresh air and sunshine had been a shock to her. Even more of a shock had come when she'd had a clear vision of a little girl, bright blue eyes and long blonde pigtails riding on a bicycle. The little girl had been laughing, looking back to the little girl on a bicycle behind her, this one with dark eyes and dark, riotously curly hair.

Those girls had been her and Peyton.

She'd had a memory, one of the only ones she could remember that had been picture-perfect.

She opened her eyes when the door opened and Dean climbed in beside her. He gave her a smile, settling back in the seat and spreading his legs. He took her hand when he was comfortable, and she leaned over, laying her head on his shoulder.

She soon sat up, seeing some of the sights of the city as the cab made its way down the road. Dean leaned up, whispering to her what was what, smiling when she nodded to him, laughing to himself when she was able to point something out to him.

She grew quiet when the cab turned onto Prescott Street. Dean looked down to see her hands in her lap, constantly squeezing and turning, never being still. He reached over and laid one of his hands over both of hers, and she let out a whimper.

"Relax, sweetheart."  
"I'm so scared, Dean."

She moved her head, putting her face in his neck, and he let out a sigh. He reached up, pushing his fingers gently through her hair.

"I should have told you this earlier. I called your mom yesterday."

Melinda went still, and he continued talking.

"I asked them to give us some time. It's going to be just you and me in the house for a while, just in case you remember something. Your mom and dad are going to come in a little while, and Peyton and Sam tonight. The rest of the family, you can decide how you want to see them."  
"So every … everyone's not going to be there?"  
"No, sweetheart. Just you and me."

Her sigh of relief made him feel about two inches tall. He blew out a breath, shaking his head.

"I should have told you. Just with the plane and the goodbyes and—"  
"It's okay."

Her soft hand gave his a squeeze, and he kissed her forehead before resting his head on hers. He looked down and saw that she was facing him, eyes closed, and the cab came to a stop. He smiled, moving to kiss her forehead again.

"Open your eyes, Mel. We're here."


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter Seventeen_

Dean pushed open the door, letting out a breath when he took in the sight and smell of the place he now saw as home. Melinda was right behind him, and he stepped aside, letting her walk inside the door. He followed her, setting their bags on the floor.

"Dean."

Melinda's voice was soft, and Dean turned around just in time to catch her as she stumbled. She closed her eyes as he lowered her to sit on the floor, kneeling behind her and holding her up. She moaned and whimpered, and he pressed even closer to her, one hand holding her shoulder, arm across her chest, the other hand pushing through her hair.

"Can you talk to me, baby? What's happening?"  
"So … so much."

Flashes of blonde hair and blue eyes, long, dark hair floating through her fingertips. She could hear screams of laughter and of pain, hear cries of anguish and loud crashes, thumps, and glass breaking. Through it all was a running commentary, voices she couldn't distinguish speaking on things she didn't understand. Multiple voices rising in unison, the foundation of the place shaking, and blue lights shining, disappearing, and reappearing.

Silent tears were slipping unnoticed down her cheeks as her skull felt as though it was being cracked open. She gave a painful full-body shiver, feeling her teeth start chattering because of the ice that she felt invading her body.

She jerked, a pain-filled groan escaping her lips as warm hands touched the bare skin of her lower back, slowly sliding around to her sides.

"Come on, Mel. Stay with me."  
"De—mmm."

He had his hands under her shirt, slowly touching her skin, his hand almost stretching all the way across her belly. One hipbone under his thumb, the other just out of reach of his pinky finger. Melinda shivered in his arms, and he continued touching her, until a shaky hand reached up and touched his cheek. He groaned at the ice of her touch, then turned to press his lips into her palm, doing his best to infuse her with warmth.

"Come on, sweetheart. Talk to me, Mel."

She gave a shaky breath, wiggling her fingers as his hands slid up her ribcage.

"I keep … I hear so many voices. So many sounds, but I don't … I can see so much at once, and it's … I'm so dizzy, Dean."  
"I've got you. I won't let you fall."

Melinda nodded, letting out another quiet groan as the flashes in her mind came to a sudden stop as soon as Dean's hands came up to cradle her cheeks. Suddenly, she could hear clearly, but the scene was blurred, changing rapidly.

"_Well, you're welcome to stay here, for as long as you want."  
"I think we'll take you up on that."_

"'_Hi Mel'? You take off without a word and all you have to say, after two freakin' years, is 'Hi Mel'? You son of a bitch, I—"_

"_Mama! Daddy! Surprise!"_

"_I love you. All of you. Don't ever give up, all right?"_

"_Well, you're welcome to stay here, for as long as you want."  
"I think we'll take you up on that."_

Melinda's eyes flew open as the first thing she'd clearly heard replayed, this time with a clear picture. She saw herself, hair long and blonde, and Dean, years younger and clean-shaven, with a cocky grin on his face as he reached out and held the back of her head as he kissed her slowly and soundly.

She sat up, moving out of his arms, turning to face him, seeing worry evident in his green eyes.

"I remembered something."  
"Okay?"  
"It was you. You and I were here. It was … I don't know when it was, but we stood right here and you kissed me. I told you that you could stay here as long as you want, and you said that you'd—"  
"Take you up on it."

Melinda nodded, and Dean smiled, lifting a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"That was the second time I kissed you."  
"Really?"

He nodded.

"Sam and I had come … for a visit, and we were going to leave, but my car was messed up. Your mom had pulled out the spark plugs."  
"What? Why would she do that?"  
"Because I'm too damn stupid to see what's right in front of me."

Melinda's eyes went soft, and she lifted a hand to rest against his cheek.

"You're not stupid."  
"That's still up for debate."

She leaned forward, and he met her halfway, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss, reminiscent of the one she had just remembered. Dean broke the kiss, moving to lay his lips against her forehead, then leaning back to smile at her.

"You okay?"

She nodded, and he stood up, helping her to her feet. She reached back and took his hand, glancing around as she slowly made her way through the foyer to the staircase. She let her fingers dance over the bannister, walking up one step, then coming back down. She looked to Dean with a smile, speaking softly.

"I used to slide down the bannister. I fell off once and thought I broke my ankle, but I didn't. It was really swollen for a while, though."

Dean nodded, and she held his hand as she walked into the living room. He came to stand behind her, gently brushing his fingers through her hair and resting his hand against the back of her head. She pointed towards the couch.

"That's where I would stay when I was too sick to go to school. I remember soap operas on the TV and chicken noodle soup."

She let out a shaky breath, and Dean leaned down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"You're doing great, Mel."

She nodded, reaching up to pat the hand he'd wrapped around her arm.

"I don't understand this, Dean. This stuff doesn't hurt. And it's not like it's a memory that's coming to my mind. It's just …"

She shook her head, stepping away from him. She walked to a figurine on the mantle above the fireplace and lifted it. Dean smiled when he saw the jagged edge around the bottom of the portion she was holding, and she shrugged a shoulder at him.

"I broke this when I was seven. I was too scared to tell anyone, so I just put it back together and leaned it back a bit. No one ever noticed it was broken."

She put the figurine back together, then turned to him with tears in her eyes.

"I don't even remember how I broke it, but I know that I did."

Dean walked over, wrapping her in his arms, and she put her face in his chest. She shook her head, turning to rest her ear over his heart, closing her eyes at the steady beat.

"I feel so confused, and so … lost."  
"You're not, baby. I'm right here. We're going to make it through this, okay?"

She nodded, and Dean bent to kiss the top of her head. A few minutes later, she looked up at him with a shy smile, taking his hand again and walking out of the room. She came to a hard stop in the sunroom, and Dean let out a shaky breath behind her.

Melinda let out a few gasping breaths, because standing in this room literally felt like she was being stabbed in the heart. She actually lifted a hand to her chest, surprised when she pulled it away and it wasn't covered in blood. She gasped again, turning to Dean and shaking her head.

"This room … hurts."  
"Mel, I—"  
"Help."

Her voice was so quiet, and Dean couldn't think anymore. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the kitchen, setting her on her feet in time for her to run to the mudroom, where the washing machine was, and she threw up into the sink there. Dean stood in the doorway, one hand over his mouth as she coughed and gagged and made these quiet, whimpering sounds that broke his heart. He tried to get closer to her, but she raised a hand to him, forcing him to keep his distance.

He couldn't look away from her hands, where they gripped the porcelain of the sink. And he couldn't help but wonder if she'd burn him again if she touched him.

She finally stopped, still holding onto the sink as she was breathing hard. Dean didn't make a move to her, and she turned to look at him, cheeks wet with tears and eyes red-rimmed. He gave her a tiny smile, then tossed a thumb over his shoulder.

"I'm going to run to our bags real quick, grab your toothbrush?"

She nodded, and he smiled at her before he turned and walked away. She let out a long shaky breath, turning the water on, watching it fall from the faucet as she gently thought of what she'd seen in the sun room.

Well, she hadn't really been able to see anything. Just blurred-out shadows of a crowd of people. She might not have been able to see clearly, but she could certainly hear.

"_I've never been good at saying what I feel. Words are not my strong suit. So I just want to tell you that I love you. You are so incredible, and I can't even begin to imagine how I got so lucky to find you."_

Dean had said those words to her. She recognized his voice. She couldn't remember when or why, but he had said those words. His voice had almost thundered in her ears as the memory had assaulted her, and what hit even harder was what she'd heard from her own voice.

"_Dean, I was born to love you, and I always will."_

She gave a quiet moan, gasping as a warm hand cradled the back of her head.

"You're all right. I'm right here."

Melinda nodded, eyes screwed shut, hands still gripping tightly to the sink. When the waves of pain and nausea faded, she slowly blinked her eyes open, looking to her right and seeing Dean's worried eyes watching her. He smiled, holding out her toothbrush and toothpaste, and she gave him a tiny smile, sliding her fingers across his palm as she took the items from him.

As she went to brush her teeth, she completely missed Dean's face screwing into a grimace, glancing down to see four lines burned into his palm from where her fingers had touched him.

* * *

They sat at the kitchen table, both staring into a cup of coffee they absently sipped from every now and then. Melinda had studied every inch of the kitchen, remembering some peculiar things, like the way her mother's apron felt between her little fingers when she'd been a child, or the way a watermelon had looked splattered onto the ceiling, the cause unknown to her.

"Mel?"

She looked over to him, blue eyes cloudy with worry and apprehension.

"I know this is a stupid question, but are you okay?"

She smiled, looking back to her coffee cup.

"My head hurts. Not as bad as it has before, and not as bad as it did earlier today, but …"

She licked her lips, and he gave her a smile.

"Maybe we should turn in for the night. We've got the place to ourselves for another day."

Melinda gave him a smile, nodding her head.

"I think that would be good."

Dean drained his coffee, walking over and putting his cup in the sink. Melinda walked up behind him, one hand on his back as she did the same thing. He watched as her hand slid from him, flipping the faucet on and rinsing out both of their cups before moving to set them both in the dishwasher. She shut the appliance and turned back to him, smile falling as she covered her face with her hands.

"Mel?"

She let out a sob, and Dean moved, immediately wrapping her in his arms.

"Hey, what is it? Talk to me, baby. Come on, now."  
"I can't—"

She sobbed again, gripping his arms, shaking her head.

"I'm so confused. It hurts so bad, but I can't put into words why. How can I remember where the dishwasher is, but seeing the sunroom hurts so bad it makes me sick?"

She lifted tear-filled blue eyes to him, and he leaned down, gently laying his lips against hers. Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, kissing him deeply. She moaned into his mouth when he lifted her, setting her up on the counter, hands coming up to card through her short hair. She kept her hands on his face, scratching her nails through his beard, and Dean finally pulled back, resting his forehead on hers.

They were both breathing hard, and Dean placed a kiss on her cheek before he looked into her eyes.

"Let's go to bed."

She nodded, and he helped her off the counter, keeping hold of her hand as they walked to the stairs. He watched as she stepped in front of him, still holding his hand, leading him up to the second floor.

Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest the closer they got to the room he hadn't been able to bring himself to go in since he lost her. He let out a breath when she dropped his hand, laying both of hers on the massive door to her bedroom. Dean felt dizzy, nauseous, but he managed to lift his head to look at her. She looked back at him, worry crossing her face.

"Dean?"

He gasped, turning away from her, and she hurried to him, walking in front of him and taking his face in her hands.

"Hey. Talk to me. What is it?"

He lifted shaking hands to hold her wrists. He shook his head.

"The—the bedroom. I … I can't."  
"Why?"

He gasped out another breath, and she moved her hand to rest over his heart.

"Breathe, honey."  
"I can't."  
"Yes, you can."

She stepped closer, lifting her face, and he automatically lowered his, moving closer to her. Their lips were barely an inch apart, and she whispered to him.

"Take a breath."

He immediately did as she asked, groaning when her hands moved to rest on either side of his chest.

"Do it again. Deeper."

He did, staring into her eyes, and she smiled when he exhaled.

"Better?"

When he pulled her into his arms, she gasped this time. He kissed her lips once, twice, just brushing his lips over hers, then resting his forehead on hers. She lifted a hands to brush through the hair on the back of his neck, and he sighed.

"I haven't been able to go into the bedroom since you …"

He sighed, and she nodded.

"Oh."  
"I'm sorry, I just—"  
"Don't … don't apologize."

She leaned back, looking up until deep green eyes looked back at her.

"Do you … do you think maybe we could go in together?"

Dean let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know."

Melinda nodded, reaching over to slip her hand into his.

"Try?"

Dean nodded, feeling his heart speed up again as she took hold of the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open. He stepped into the room, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and tears were immediately in his eyes.

He could see her, like he always had, sleeping on the bed, face drawn up in worry until he slid in beside her. He could see her sitting on the edge of the bed as she got dressed, or making the bed once they'd both gotten up. He could see her changing the sheets, falling onto them and winking at him, and then they'd mess up the newly-made bed.

He hung his head, grabbing onto the dresser and holding tightly. When a minute had passed, he lifted his head, watching Melinda as she slowly made her way around the room. She lifted her eyes to his, laying a palm on the bedspread.

"We've stayed here."

Dean nodded, and she moved to touch the pillow.

"This is my side."

He nodded again, and she sat down, putting her head in her hand. Dean walked over, sliding behind her, putting his legs on either side of her, pulling her back against his chest, and she let out a quiet groan, leaning against him.

"My head is killing me."  
"Let's go to bed. See if you can sleep it off."

She nodded, and Dean kissed her cheek. She stood up, moving to the dresser and pulling open a drawer, pulling out one of his old t-shirts. His breath caught in his chest when she lifted it to her face, then turned back to him.

"This is …"

She lifted a hand to her forehead, letting out a quiet moan. Dean turned away from her, letting out a breath of relief when he heard the soft sound of clothes hitting the floor. He turned back once he had his sweatpants on, breath catching again when he saw her in the shirt. She looked down, touching the hem of the shirt, which hung at almost the middle of her thighs.

"I can find something else."

Dean let out a laugh.

"This is fine with me."

Her cheeks reddened, and he laughed again. He winked at her, and she smiled, walking to the bed and pulling back the covers. She slid into bed, letting out a long breath. Dean slid in behind her, rolling close to her, lacing his arm over her stomach.

"Is this okay?"

Melinda smiled.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

Dean swallowed, but nodded. He laid his head down on the pillow right behind her head, the scent of her hair filling his nose. He blinked once, twice, then closed his eyes, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dean got up early the next morning, slipping out of bed while Melinda was still asleep. He watched her sleep for a moment, before kissing her temple and going downstairs. He started up a pot of coffee and stared out the window into the backyard, licking his lips and letting out a shaky breath.

She was remembering. The Manor was doing wonders for her, just like he'd hoped. The times it had gotten to be too much for her had been exactly what Dean had been expecting to happen. Her reaction to the sunroom was not what he'd been expecting, and he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't been wishing that seeing the room would bring everything back for her. Knowing what the room had meant to them …

They'd fought there. They'd made up there. They'd held each other and kissed and had lazy days just lying together. Hell, they'd gotten _married_ there.

But seeing the pain that just the sight of the room brought to her …

Dean ran a hand over his face, pulling a mug out of the cabinet and filling it with coffee. He took a sip and hissed at the burn of the bitter liquid down his throat.

The cup hit the counter, Dean's mouth falling open when he looked to the mudroom door as Leo walked inside. Dean shook his head.

"What are you doing here?"

Leo blew out a breath, then shook his head.

"I've done everything you asked, all right? I didn't go with you to New York. I let you stay there until you deemed it time to come home. And then I left so you could bring her home by yourself. But now I'm done, all right?"  
"Leo—"  
"No. No, this is my baby girl, Dean. I get that you want to protect her, but I was doing that way before you came along. I want to see her."

Dean let out a laugh.

"Leo, we just got here yesterday. She hasn't even been through the whole house."  
"I don't care. I'll give her a tour."  
"Leo, we—"  
"No!"

Leo stepped over and slammed his hands on the center island, then turned to face Dean.

"_You_ have decided. And I admit, we let you, because … well, you know why."

Dean couldn't stop the glance down at his left hand, still feeling _wrong_ without his wedding ring. Leo rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head.

"I need to see her. I need to look at her, to see her with my eyes and know she's … _god_, that she's alive. I haven't seen her for half a year, and that's too damn long."  
"What if she can't handle it?"  
"You wouldn't have brought her home if you didn't think she could handle it."

Dean nodded, pushing a hand through his hair and breathing out a sigh, a sudden craving for a cigarette rolling down his spine. Dean shook his head, opening his mouth, and Leo let out a laugh.

"I'm so done right now. Don't even try to talk me down or pacify me, because I promise you … I'm usually not like this, but I could knock your teeth down your throat right now."

Dean blinked wide eyes at Leo, who shrugged back at his.

"I don't know why. But the papa bear in me has decided that you're the only thing standing between me and my little girl, and I am _done_, do you hear me?"  
"Leo, I—"  
"Get over yourself, would you? For one _fucking_ second, think about her family. I get how shitty your life was without her, but my god, Dean. Think about me. Do you even know how hard it was for me to breathe? I wanted to die, but I couldn't."

Dean shook his head, a haze of red suddenly filling his vision.

"All I have done is think about her family. I brought her home for the sole reason of seeing you all. I asked for a few days so we wouldn't bombard her, but I guess that was too much to ask."  
"Yeah, as a matter of fact it was too much to ask, because—"  
"Dad?"

Leo and Dean stopped, turning and looking at the entryway into the kitchen. Melinda stood there, in one of Dean's shirts and a pair of leggings. She was staring at Leo, and as Dean tore his eyes away from her, he saw the tears fill Leo's eyes. One drifted down his cheek and Dean shook his head, green eyes flashing back to Melinda.

"Wait. What did you say?"

She took a step forward, slowly making her way across the kitchen, stopping in front of Leo, staring up at him. Tears slid down his cheeks as he looked at her, and she raised a shaky hand, pressing it against his cheek.

"Daddy."

Leo blinked, mouth dropping open, and he caught her as she fainted.


End file.
